


Drugs Can't Kill Me

by windybee



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Drugs, M/M, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 102,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windybee/pseuds/windybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero is a homeless runaway with a passion for music and a drug problem. Gerard Way is a guy with a too big heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Frank pulled his knees closer up to his chest and pushed his back harder into the brick behind him, feeling it press hard on his spine through his layered clothing. Hopefully if he looked smaller no one would bother him. An older homeless man who smelled like moth balls and urine had already robbed him of all his money at knife point once, and he wasn’t planning to let that happen again. He knew he needed to find somewhere to stay permanently before the weather got so cold he’d get sick. His immune system had always been and would always be complete shit. Having to stay out in the cold with pneumonia or bronchitis with no money to get treated sounded like hell. But no way would he have enough money to rent out a place in one months time. Nervous anticipation for the winter filled his body every minute he was awake. Even his dreams were beginning to get infiltrated with worry. 

He pulled his jacket tighter over his shoulders, desperate to trap any and all warmth that would dare try to escape. The fabric that seemed to be stretched to its maximum capacity over him a few months ago now hung loosely around his already small frame. He wished he had another jacket, but he was wearing both his hoodie and coat. The thought of robbing someone smaller than him of their coat did cross his ind, but the only person smaller out here needed the coat more than him anyway. The shivering was just uncomfortable shaking at this point and tonight, like most nights, it seemed pretty unbearable.

“Fuck it.” He pushed his body and slid upwards on the wall into a standing position. He looked to where he was sitting to make sure he didn’t leave anything and flung a backpack strap over his shoulder. Frank flipped his hood over his exposed head and began walking forward, knowing where he was going.

Walking at the quick pace he was was warming up his body in the slightest way. It was spreading up from his legs to his face and he walked faster to generate more warmth. He debated against himself in his head whether or not to light up a cigarette. He felt inside the crumpled old pack of Marlboro Reds that lay in his jacket pocket and counted 8 sticks. Wanting to save the cigarettes for a time when he had nothing else to warm himself up, he decided against burning one up tonight.

Fighting with himself in his head passed a lot of time, evidently, because before he knew it, he was in front of the house he wanted to be at. He pushed the hood off his head and walked up the sidewalk keeping his footsteps quiet and made it up to the porch steps. With every pound of weight he pushed into the steps of the porch, the wood whined louder, seeming like it was crying for a moment of relief from being stuck to the house for so long. The paint on the door was peeling off. The top brown layer was cracked and falling like dried leaves, revealing an undercoat of a yellowed plain white paint. He knocked on the door and bounced on his heels, nervous.

The front door swung open, making Frank flinch a bit. He grimaced at the sudden light that hit his eyes, adjusted to the dark.

“Hey man, what’s up?” The man behind the door looked tired and his voice sounded it.

“Uh, have anything I could buy right now?” Frank stuffed his hands farther down into his jacket.

“Yeah, cool.” Powder eyed Frank’s hidden hands, being weary of what he could be hiding. “Got cash?” He ran his hands over his buzz cut head. He turned inside and Frank followed him, closing the door behind them.

“Yeah, man. Can I get like two bags?”  Frank rubbed a hand on the back of his neck feeling unusually insecure. “Just gotta get something to…” He trailed off.

“Sure. I’ma need like thirty bucks.” Powder kept his thick lips emotionless. He pulled two small bags with a light brown colored powder inside them.

Frank thought on it for a second. “Do you have any needles? I don’t wanna share any, but I don’t have my own right now.”

“Yeah, sure.” Powder opened a drawer behind him. “But they got their own cost. You sure you don't just wanna smoke it?”

“It's fine.” Frank pulled loose bills out of his pocket, hoping he’d have enough for both bags. He hated coming back here so often. He handed powder the money. Once he was done counting it, he dropped the bags and needles into Frank’s open palm. "Smoking takes to long and doesn't feel as good."

He walked until he found the place he thought it was safe for him to shoot up. He didn’t want to get his backpack or even clothes stolen while he was out of it. He knew better than to just do it anywhere too. Getting caught by law enforcement might be worse than getting mugged, he figured at least. The last thing he wanted, even less than getting stabbed, was having to get clean off of heroin locked in a jail cell. Luckily, he’d found a secure, lonesome place, high up. When he was there, people just assumed he belonged there. The fire escape. The apartments it was on were moderately nice. They weren’t ridiculously disgusting, but they weren’t awfully fancy and expensive. They were at a nice middle.

Frank liked to come to a fire escape to get to safety. It was high up and nobody lived in the apartment it was connected directly to.  He never saw anyone inside behind the curtains covering the window and the lights were always off. He climbed up the stairs until he got to it. It was around the middle of the building and he’d never had any problem being there. No one ever treated him like he didn't belong there.

The tip of the needle laid on top of a piece of cotton and sucked the brown liquid off the spoon, Frank flicked the liquid container until all the air bubbles rose to the top. He squirted a bit out to make sure they were all out. With his arm already tied, he inserted the tip into a prominent vein pushing up on his bicep. He watched the blood swirl into the syringe, he lowered the liquid into his body with the plug and sucked it back a bit more. More blood swirled in and he pushed the rest of the toxic liquid into his begging veins. Once the syringe was emptied he pulled the tie off his arm.

There was a tingle that spread up his arm from the point of injection, up to his shoulder and down his forearm, all the way to his wrist and eventually to his fingertips. The tingle turned into warmth and it spread through his whole entire body. He wasn’t sure if he was starting to go unconscious or if he was awake and just feeling only bliss. He was never concrete about what happened to him at this part, but it didn’t bother him too much. It felt too good to bother him much. He let himself sink into the hard metal of the floor of the fire escape and ride it out. Frank felt more conscious now, this was the nicest part he thought.

The part where he was focused, keen, alert. But also blissful, calm, serene. He left his bag and his jacket on the fire escape, dropped his jacket on top of the bag. He wouldn’t need it right now anyway. He was warm and free. Everything was fine, wonderful, he was safe. A moan escaped him at the feeling of the cold metal pushing into his warm skin. The back of his neck. The back of his arms and hands. Was almost orgasmic, but strangely not in a sexual way. It just felt _so fucking good. Unreal._

He practically skipped down the stairs and onto the street once the high allowed him to focus real well. He located a lone car. It was deep red and looked like an older model. No one was around it. The street was dark and empty, the buildings around the streets were closed. He assumed it would be easy. He messed with the lock, sticking a bobby pin in the gadget until it clicked and welcomed him in. He searched the vehicle up and down, sticking his hands between seats, under seats, on the sun blockers, in the glove box, the cup holders, and center console. He came out with money and a pair of shoes. He’d have enough to buy another few bags of dope. And he could sell the shoes. He counted nineteen dollars, and he figured the shoes could go for no less than fifty. The high he had right now felt weaker than normal. Oh well though, he had money to buy more than before! To get him more high! Life was his oyster at the moment. Waiting to be opened to release its pearl.

-  


Gerard flinched and broke his trance when Mikey dropped a box at his feet. He was stood back and looking at the new apartment he’d just put his savings from his childhood and from all through highschool into this one living space. It took he and Mikey all last night and all day today to get all of his belongings, which wasn't much, into the apartment and start to clean. He had already finished cleaning the kitchen, bathroom, and the bedroom. All there was left was to clean the living room, clean the spare room, and finish unpacking his things. He finally had his own place, and was going to the college of his (second place) dreams. Life felt like his oyster.

“All set?” Mikey placed his hands on his hips, leaning back. He pointed a thumb towards the open door and spoke strained.  “I gotta get back before mom gets all restless. She's been complaining all day, I knew I should have just driven myself here.”

“Yeah, dude. Go ahead. I’m all good here,” He sighed and laid his hands on his hips. “Just need to start actually unpacking all this shit.” Gerard looked at the mess of boxes that laid on the dusty wooden floor. “See you later.” He smiled and hugged his brother. “Thanks for helping.”

“Anytime,” Mikey was halfway out the door. “See ya'.”

The door shut and left Gerard alone to clean the dust and unpack his stuff by himself. The sunlight coming though the window highlighting the dust in the air grossed Gerard out. He thought about the people that lived here before remained because of their left skin cells. It sent goosebumps down his arms, thinking of how long he'd be here and if it would be interesting at all. One thing that had been bugging him since he put the deposit down, was what if he didn't like it here? He was going to be living alone, might go stir crazy. He figured he could start trying a lot harder to make friends at school so he could have someone to hang out with. He walked into a stream of dusty light and realized he had inhaled it, which made him gag.

“Oh,” He waved a duster in the air, trying to catch flying dust. “My god.”


	2. Two

Gerard tossed over in his new-ish bed. It came with the apartment. He wanted to get to sleep soon, but the excitement of moving to live on his own and on his own terms, and getting to go to school for his passion kept his nerves going a million miles a minute, kept him awake. The mattress underneath him felt like a stiff motel mattress. But he embraced it. He sunk into the too big pillows laid on the top and felt how the sheets felt against his bare skin, knowing it was now his own life on his own terms and no one else’s. His mind had come up with a to-do list for tomorrow. Do laundry, buy more cleaner, groceries. 

He promised himself he'd write it all down in the morning and finish it by the end of the week. He was comfortable and seconds near sleep until the stairs of the fire escape sounded banged against by an undetectable pair of feet. He pulled a pillow over his face and groaned into it. He would definitely be dead at school tomorrow.

-

Frank sat with his legs crossed on the floor of the escape. It was dark and empty in the apartment as always. He thought he could just start squatting in there since no one lived there in the months he’d come up here to sleep and get away from the old violent homeless people that either wanted to mug him or buy his mouth for an hour. Squatting was a bad idea, he didn’t want to get caught. But it could also be a good idea. The near stability of a safe place for him to live sounded nothing less than absolutely marvelous.  

Frank unlaced his shoe and tied the lace around his arm and tightened it, one end between his teeth and the other end gripped in his hand. He prepared the powder into liquid in the bent spoon and watched intently as he laid down the piece of cotton and sucked it into the needle through that. He felt hunger that he'd never felt before in his whole life. He pushed the needle tip in his arm. He watched as the red from his veins swirled into the brown. There was more liquid in the syringe than there had been a few days ago. He started to get nervous about his tolerance building up, but he had started to really badly crave the heroin. More than usual. He convinced himself that it was just him wanting to feel happy. Everyone wanted to feel happy. It was a normal thing. Everyone acquired their happiness in different ways. Some people went fishing or did art- Frank did heroin. That’s what worked for him.

He pulled the tie off his arm quickly after removing the needle tip and let the warm ooze from the point of entry up to his head and the last nerve in the bottom of his toes. He slid down and flattened his body onto the metal flooring. He watched the stars which seemed to be turning in the sky above him.  

Frank trudged along the dark street, looking for something to steal or someone to steal from. But the two larger men following behind him told Frank his night was going to have a very different end. He was now thankful he had left his bag on the fire escape, knowing that at least it wouldn’t be stolen off of him.

“Hey,” The loud voice made Frank flinch. “Why you walkin’ away? Come on, turn around.” Frank walked faster, not wanting any trouble. “Turn the fuck around, bitch.” A heavy hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around.

“Hey, fellas. Nice night, huh?” Frank showed none of the fear he was feeling.

“Ooh wee, look at the pretty mouth on this one. Nice one too? How much you cost, baby boy?” The other man spoke.

“No,” The large one shook his head. “Empty your fuckin pockets.”

Frank pulled his pants pockets inside out, only lint fell onto the asphalt.

“Your’re gonna have to give us somethin’, pretty boy.” The pervert leaned close and spoke directly into Frank’s ear.

Frank shuttered and regretted never buying himself any sort of knife. “Uh, I don’t have anything. Fuck off.” He pushed the pervert off him. “You and your pig friend over here.” He turned to walk away, but felt rough hands grip at his shoulder again.

Frank shrugged it off without turning his face and started sprinting, as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran against the cold air until his heart started to sting in his chest. Though the sound of the men's heavy footsteps following him had diminished a while ago, he kept running until the streets became unfamiliar. He pushed his back against a wall and looked behind him, there was no sign of those two, but he was weary that there would be other dangerous people to cross his path. His mind started a to do list to finish sooner than later. Buy a knife, gain some weight, and stop walking around alone at night. 

-

Gerard looked at the hands of his watch. It took him longer than it should have to comprehend the time. He had finished unpacking the kitchen and the bedroom, only leaving a few boxes of things scattered thinly around the living room. He had gone to the store after school today and bought groceries, cleaning supplies, a dish set, a bathroom set, and other things he had never thought about buying. Like a toilet brush. It took much, much longer than he thought it would to put his home together.

“Five am.” He whispered to himself. He looked around at the pile of empty boxes, satisfied. The only light that was on was the kitchen light, causing only a dim, yellowish orange glow to be cast throughout the living room. Gerard stood up and clicked the light off. He stretched and listened to his shoulders pop, he yawned hard and started to make his way to the room when he spotted something behind his curtain. The moonlight cast a shadow of it into the living room. 

It looked like something was laying out on his fire escape. A large dog? A child? A fucking alien? Was he just imagining it due to lack of sleep from the past few days? All options were reasonable possibilities. He tip toed his way to the window, sweat started to accumulate in his hands. He pulled the curtain back a bit and looked behind it onto the outside world.

It looked like a teenage boy in a too-big jacket just sleeping. Not doing anything really _wrong_ or anything that was _bothering_ Gerard too much. He looked homeless. He had a blue suede backpack laid in the corner that looked super old and super used. A dark green beanie laid on his head, mostly the back of his head. The front of it was pulled back and Gerard could see the front of his hair was pulled back with it.

His face was pointed up to the sky and he looked like he was sleeping in peace. His eyelids laid down comfortably and his round shaped eyebrows sat relaxed.  The last thing Gerard wanted to do was wake the poor boy and have him leave. He made sure the window was locked, then made his way into his bedroom.

 -

Gerard laid in bed, unable to get the boy’s face out of his mind for days. He tossed uncomfortably, gaining a crick in his back from doing that so often. He sighed and attempted to relax against the bed, with no luck. He hadn't heard him come up the stairs since that night. Before school and before bed he had checked outside for him, he was never there. Gerard began to think he was just a local teenage boy who probably wanted some alone time away from his family and came to a fire escape he figured was vacant. But what if he wasn't? He didn't look clean at all and he wore the same thing both times Gerard saw him. He began to ignore his accusations, deeming them borderline rude. 

He sat up quick in his bed once he heard the banging of the metal stairs. After seconds, he pulled the blanket off his legs and walked to the door of his room. He stood over the doorknob, hunched, thinking of his options. What was he gonna do if the boy _was_ there? He had no fucking clue, but he was already making his way towards the large window. He walked on the tips of his bare toes across the cold, wooden flooring.

Gerard stood with his back against the wall next to the window, his heart rate increased. He shook his head at himself for being so nervous. The boy looked small enough for him to conquer if he did have to fight. But if the boy had a weapon to use against him, that was a different story. He was homeless after all, he probably did have a weapon to protect himself so he didn’t get mugged by all the other scarier, more violent homeless people that happened to be bigger, taller, and stronger than him.

“Fuck,” He mouthed, he rubbed his face. Gerard crouched over and pushed his face to the point where the curtains naturally parted, careful not to expose himself too quick.

He moved the curtains back a bit, looking out wide eyed. He let out a small gasp once his eyes fell on the small boy sitting cross legged with his back turned away from the window. It was definitely the boy from the other night. The green beanie he was wearing before laid on top of the same backpack and his sweater laid folded on the metal floor. His jacket was rested on his shoulders, but his arms weren’t pulled through it.His arms working on something, but Gerard couldn't see _what._ He watched him intently, wondering what he could do about it. _If_ he would even be able to work up the courage to do something about it.

The boys arms stop moving and his head lifted up a bit. He threw something in his backpack and zipped it up. He relaxed a bit. Gerard cowered back further into the dark room, hiding behind the curtain further. The boys back pressed against the window and his head thumped against it, making Gerard flinch. He looked out carefully and the boy was laid with his back against the glass, his head raised up to look at the sky.

Gerard sighed, out of ideas of what to do to get the boys attention. He made sure the lock on the window was pulled down and he decided to finally to lay in his bed, feeling like he could get a good night's rest, knowing the boy was doing okay.

-  


Gerard let his body flop down onto the couch, exhausted. He spent his whole day working his ass off at school and once he got to come home, he decided to spend his whole night getting his house in order. And he still wasn’t finished setting things up. He flattened his face into the couch pillow, feeling defeated by life. His mind had repeated the sound of the boy running up the fire escape to him all day and he sighed, begging the sound to stop. 

“He just,” Mikey closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sleeps there? He doesn't try to get in or anything?”

“Yeah man,” Gerard gripped the glass cleaner. “I'm telling you, he just comes up here at night. Probably to get away from other homeless people. He looks kind of young.” He sprayed the window and began scrubbing it.

“You ever tried to see if he needs some help or something? It's getting pretty cold. It's almost November, dude.” Mikey raised an eyebrow.

“Hm,” Gerard looked at his brother. “Yeah I never thought if he needed anything. I'll see about him.” Gerard had thought about seeing if he could help him out, but he was too scared to say anything to him.

“You really never thought about helping him?” Mikey scoffed. “What? You scared?”

“Shut up,” Gerard threw the dirty rag at him. “Okay! Maybe a little. I don’t know how I would even approach him.”

“Just open the window and say hi.” Mikey shrugged, tossing the rag back into Gerard’s hands. “Simple.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gerard dropped his shoulders. “You’re not the one that has to do it.”

“Look,” Mikey stuck a hand out. “He obviously comes up here to get away from fighting to survive. You said yourself that he just sleeps up here, he doesn’t seem violent or anything.”

-

Gerard sat in his room only illuminated by a lamp clicked on in the opposite corner of the room. He hunched over a half finished art piece. He sat up onto his knees and squinted at it. It didn't look right. Something was off. He leaned over with the paintbrush in his hand. He was about to put down another stroke until the bang of the footsteps on the fire escape scared him half to death. He flinched and missed swiping the canvas with green paint by a hair.

He clicked off the lamp and padded his way out of his room, cursing the noisy boy. Gerard strode across the wooden floor and over to the wall where the window sat. He collected his breath and looked out the curtain.

The boy was hunched over a green composition notebook, his side turned to Gerard. He could see his profile and through his artist eyes, he took notes, wanting to incorporate the slope of his round nose and size of his eyes into his piece. The boy stopped writing and his eyes flicked up and looked over the edge of the metal floor. Gerard quickly moved back next to the wall and flattened himself against it.

He sat behind the curtain for too long and finally managed to gather his courage. He pushed the corner of the curtain back and saw the boy now laying on the metal floor, his eyes tracking stars going across the sky. His backpack was unzipped now, Gerard could see the notebook slouched inside of it. He swallowed his fear and extended his hand to the glass. He hit the knuckle of his index finger against it.

The boy jumped up onto his elbows then flipped his body around quickly so he was on his knees. He bounced up so he was positioned on his toes while squatted down. He looked like a spooked lion, ready to pounce. His huge, green eyes were wide open and he looked like he was frozen. Gerard froze in the eye contact and managed to hesitantly wave to the boy. The boy cocked his head, confused. It reminded Gerard of a dog and he cracked half of a smile. The boy fell back onto his knees and brought his self closer to the glass and gave a small wave of his fingers to Gerard.

Gerard slid the window open. The cold blew in and froze the tip of his pointed nose.

“Hi. I'm Gerard.” He stuck his hand out. The small boy swallowed and hesitantly shook his hand.

“Uh. H-hi. I'm Frank.” He did a quick series of blinks and shook his head. “Man, I'm so sorry. I didn't know anyone lived here. I -I live… A-around here. I'll just get out of your way.” Frank shoved a lighter in his pocket. Gerard didn’t even realize he was holding one.

“Where do you live?” Gerard asked. “I'm just curious. I haven't seen you around anywhere other than here.”

“Uh,” Frank pulled his backpack on. After a too long silence of sleeping he scoffed and shrugged. “You got me,” he laughed roughly. “I'm a fucking street rat.” His gaze of Gerard softened and he ran his hands over his face “Please don't call the police. I’ll leave.”

Gerard furrowed his brows. “No I wasn't gonna do that I was actually just wondering if you wanted to come in maybe?” He struggled through the question.

“If what?” Frank stopped in the middle of standing upright.

“If you wanted to come in?” Gerard held his hand out for him. “It's cold. You want some coffee or tea or something?”

Frank took his hand slowly and stepped one leg in. He pulled the other through and looked around as Gerard closed the window. Once he heard the click of the window locking, fear that it was some sort of trap filled him and he fought against the urge to get out. Instead, he started looking around. There were a few boxes on the floor opened, but full of things like clothes, albums, art supplies, and kitchenware.

“Sorry-” Gerard’s cheeks were red. Frank couldn’t tell if he was blushing or if it was from the cold. “I haven’t had a lot of time or energy to unpack right now. I’m in school and everything.”

“No, man it’s fine really. You don't have to apologize to _me._ Of all people.” Frank dropped his bag on the floor and took off his thick jacket. “God, it's so warm in here. And it smells so good.” He pulled his sweater off.

Gerard made his way to the kitchen. The coffee maker was, of course, already unpacked and in use. He started a fresh brew of coffee and leaned against the counter, watching Frank. He was walking around the living room eyeing the set up Gerard had made in the short time span he’d been living there.

There were already paintings and framed posters hung strategically on the walls. The slumped, sad looking olive green couch that came with the apartment had yet to be sat on. There was a gray rug sprawled and on top of it there sat a small wooden coffee table.

“Can I- uh use your bathroom?” Frank stammered.

“Yeah, of course.” Gerard said over the coffee maker spitting. "You've gotta go through the bedroom and it's the door on the right."

“Cool,” Frank made his way down the hall.

It had been so long since he’d used a bathroom in an actual house. He had just used public restrooms for everything the past few months. Even for washing his clothes. He opened the door to what looked like the bedroom and saw a huge canvas laid on the wooden floor next to open tubes of paint and a pallet. He couldn't help but peek at what it was. He tip toed into the room and turned his neck to look over the piece of art. It looked like an action scene based in a futuristic room setting. It was made with ben-day dots and a really cool looking concept. Half of it was still drawn in pencil, but the whole thing was blowing Frank’s mind.

“It’s not done yet.” Gerard said, his voice close to Frank.

Frank jumped back from where he was standing over the piece. “Oh- sor- I didn’t mean to- I uh,” Frank swallowed and cleared his throat. “I-Its really cool, though.”

“You think?” Gerard stood above the canvas and crossed his arms. He pointed to the art. “See her face? It looks off, doesn’t it? I think she needs something, but I don't know what.”

Frank stood next to Gerard. He placed one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth. He used all his experience of reading comics to think of what artistic element was missing from this character. “Look,” he squatted down and pointed at her eye area. “You’ve got sunglasses on her, but like, underneath it there’s no black. Like a shadow. So its all like the same color. I think that’s what you’re talking about.” He stood back up and looked at Gerard’s face for approval about his input on his art.

“Of course! How could I have missed that?” Gerard uncrossed his arms. He fell to his knees and Frank watched, entranced as he mixed colors to resemble a skin color darker than his own and the woman's on the canvas. He spread it under her eye and that missing piece clicked. “You’re a fuckin’ gem.” Gerard said seemingly to no one in particular. “Look!” He looked up at Frank and pointed at what he’d just done. “Look at how much dimension that added! Wow. Nice work, Frank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading  
> :-)


	3. Three

Frank pulled the mug of hot coffee up close to his nose, the steam made his face warm. It felt like the pores in the skin of his face were opening up and welcoming the warmth in finally. Something about just _holding_ the warm mug in his hands brought back a bit of his humanity. His appreciation was interrupted by Gerard’s voice.

“So,” He studied his face. “Where you from?”

Frank swallowed a mouthful of sweet, light coffee. “South Jersey, it’s gets colder faster in North jersey,” He sighed. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Ah, I’ve lived in the Northern part my whole life, I wouldn’t know any better.” Gerard watched intently as Frank held every sip he took in his mouth, tasting it for almost too long. “Did you run away? Sorry if I’m being too blunt I-” Gerard hasn’t broken his wide-eyed gaze off Frank since they sat down to drink. He had a tattoo across his wrist and small, miscellaneous ones decorating his arms.

Frank laughed once into his mug, “Yeah,” He set it down on the counter with a small clink. “I did. Go ahead,” He sat back in the padded chair and crossed his arms. “I’m an open book.”

“How old are you?” Gerard finally was able to ask.

“Seventeen.” Frank fished his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open, showcasing his license to Gerard. “Eighteen in around a week, I think.”

Gerard eyed the goofy picture of Frank smiling too big after calculating his age. “Wait, but-” Gerard pointed at his arms resting on the counter. “How’d you get those?”

“Oh!” Frank ran his fingers over some of the pieces. “My buddy did tattoos, did one or two myself. Didn’t really make the folks happy.” Frank laughed.

“Oh, they look nice. Did you finish school?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Took a few online classes here and there. Managed to finish high school early.” He shrugged, grinning.

“Do you work, then?” He chewed on his cheek, something about Frank was so attractive. He wanted to get closer to him.

“Yep. Landed a job here. Saving money so I can buy a guitar and get famous.” He nodded, smiling wide so Gerard could see most of his teeth.

“You play guitar?” He leaned forward again. Frank held his left fingertips up to Gerard’s face. They still had the tough tips stuck to his fingertips despite him not being able to touch a guitar in months. He had to admit, he missed the blisters. Gerard cringed, but put his face closer. “You must be good, that shits brutal.”

Frank just nodded, a content grin spread on his face. 

“Why’d you leave home?” Gerard brought the question up a little bit too quick and regretted it some. 

“Ah,” He shifted in the chair. “You know,” He lifted the cup to his mouth. “Well I don’t actually really _know why.”_ He gave a harsh laugh into the cup. “I just, didn’t feel like- If I stayed there, I knew I wouldn’t be able to live my life the way I want to. I don’t wanna be working my whole life. I wanna play. I know I’m good enough, man.” Frank sat with his eyes down. After what seemed like an eternity he looked into Gerard’s eyes, Frank thought he didn’t seem to completely get what he was trying to get across. “Something in my brain,” Frank put his index finger to his temple. “Told me that if i wasnt able to get out and just do what I was put here to do then I’d probably end up, worse off than I am now."

“Do you think you made the right decision?” Gerard asked, looking at his disheveled clothes. 

“Definitely.” Frank drank a mouthful of coffee. “My turn.”

Gerard rested his elbow on the counter, then his head on his hand. “Alright, shoot.”

“How old are you?” He pointed his index finger at him. 

“Twenty.” He grinned.

“Uh, middle name.” He struggled to think of a question.

“Ha, Arthur.” He laughed once.

“Favorite color?” He winced.

Gerard slumped his face farther into his hand. “ _Boring_! Ask better questions.”

“Alright,” Frank covered his mouth in thought. “Do you know your purpose in life?”

“Pretty sure its to make art.” He crossed his arms. 

"Why's that?" He pressed.

"I'm not sure." He hummed. "I've always done it, and I've never had to force it. When I don't do it, it's kind of all I think about."

“Interesting.” He crossed his arms again. “What do you think about me?”

Gerard lifted his head from his hand. “Ah, alright. Hm, well.” He studied him for a second. Gerard lifted his eyebrows. “Honestly?”

“Dead honest.” Frank asked desperate for more decent human contact.

“Well, you look dirty. For starters. But, you look really smart, too smart." He eyed him, looking into his eyes and it his mouth. "You look like you have somewhere else to be. You also look, if I'm being honest, alone. But not so sad. A little hazy too, I can't tell what it is, but you look almost intoxicated."

“Are you a psychic on the side or what? How could you read me like that?” Frank squinted at Gerard and had a skeptical smile on his face. Gerard was even able to tell he was high, though he couldn't tell the specifics, he could tell.

“I’m an artist, I can tell a lot about people. They radiate things they want you to know.” Gerard glanced at the clock, it was starting to get really late, but he wanted to carry on talking to this new boy.

 -

Once exhaustion had overcame Gerard and he was struggling to push his eyelids back up, he announced it was time for him to get to bed. He had offered Frank a shower and after an almost too long moment of him thinking, he accepted. He took his bag with him into the bathroom behind the locked door, but left his shoes and sweater out on the living room floor. Gerard had looked closer at the jacket when he was showering. There was a rip on the inside that was obviously hand sewed up, but other than that, it looked taken care of. His shoes were another story, the fabric was ripped and crudely sewn up with thread that didn't match the color. There were stains all around. They looked like they were about to burst. Frank sat on a kitchen stool, drying his wet hair.

“You wanna crash here? I don't wanna throw you out in the cold.” Gerard yawned, watching Frank slip back into his sweater.

“That’s alright. I can’t pay you or anything.” Frank waved his hand. “Thanks for the coffee though.” He slid his jacket back on and gripped the bottom of the window.

“No, I don't want you to pay me.” Gerard yawned again. “I just wanted to meet you.” He walked closer to the window, wanting to stop Frank from leaving, but he didn't know how.

“It was really nice meeting you. See you later,” He stepped through the window and made his way down the fire escape steps, clanking noisily all the way down.

“Frank!” Gerard stuck his head out the window. “C’mon, Frank!” He turned around after jumping onto the asphalt in the alleyway to face him.

“Thanks again!”He waved at Gerard, a smile showing on his face.

“Stay safe out there!” Gerard watched him until he disappeared behind the neighboring building, knowing he wasn’t gonna be able to convince him.

-

Frank sat up on the fire escape, shivering. He had just shot up so he _felt_ warm, but the cold touching his skin still made him shiver. His jacket was starting to wear holes in a few places. He sat hunched over a pile of cash he had. Just a bit over four hundred dollars and a few cents. He folded the bills and put the coins in a bag and stuffed it back in his waistband. He made a deal with himself to gather a thousand dollars before he started spending it on a place to live or anything expensive like that.

Sure, Gerard had asked him to stay in a few times, but Frank didn’t want to owe him back for something big like that. In less than a week, they had gotten extremely close with each other. He considered Gerard a friend. Probably a best friend. They had bonded together, sharing coffee while Frank maintained his place on the fire escape and Gerard sat on the couch pushed up against the window connecting to it. Frank felt a connection to him that he’d never felt with anyone else before. And he didn’t want to mess that up by diving face first into his life, dragging all his past and present problems behind him.

“Frank!” Gerard’s voice was muffled behind the glass. He slid the window up, Frank felt the warm come out and Gerard felt the cold come in. “You wanna sleep in here for once? There’s a lot of people out tonight. It is a holiday, man.”

“No,” Frank smiled dopily. “I’m alright up here. I like to see the people walk by all dressed up.” He settled his back against the metal bars and pointed down at one kid painted green. “Look, there's Frankenstein’s monster. And Dracula. A werewolf. A clown. Man, so many classics out tonight. God, it's beautiful.” Though the world looked so much more beautiful through heroin clouded eyes, he truly believed the beauty was authentic.

“Yeah,” Gerard stared, trying to see through Frank’s eyes. “Oh!” He walked backwards and came back a few seconds later with a single cupcake with a candle shaped in the number ‘18’. “Want me to sing happy birthday?”

“No, man.” Frank said while laughing. “This is amazing.” He licked the vanilla frosting off the top, his tongue moving around the candle. “Thank you so much, Gerard.” He wrapped his arms around his neck and Gerard squeezed back. Frank held on for a little too long and when he let go, Gerard realized he had started to cry.

Frank had no idea why he was crying, maybe it was because feeling Gerard’s skin on his just felt so amazing while the heroin was affecting his mind and body, it was something he had never felt before. Maybe it was because of how nice the cupcake was, or that he was finally an adult after years of waiting. There was a list of reasons that could wrap around the world twice, but Frank didn’t care what the exact reason was, he just embraced the feeling of finally being able to be human in front of someone other than himself for the first time in his life. Which made him cry harder.

“Dude,” Gerard said concerned. He climbed out the window and sat next to Frank. He laid his head in his shoulder and Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank, letting the tears soak into his sweater. “What’s wrong?” He gave him a small squeeze. The feeling of Gerard's bare arms squeezing his body and pressing into his warm, bare skin felt almost too good and he willed him to stay holding him forever.

“I don’t have a clue, man.” Frank wiped his face and took a bite of the cupcake. “Here, have some.” He pushed it in Gerard’s face. “It’s so good.”

Gerard took a small bite of cake off the top, feeling his stomach flutter when Frank smiled with cake in his teeth and frosting on his top lip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah ik its so short but the next chapters will hopefully be a lot longer


	4. Four

Frank laid on his back on Gerard's couch staring out of the window at the sky, watching the stars. He finally gave in after Gerard’s constant begging for weeks for Frank to sleep inside. He decided paying Gerard back for doing him this favor would cost an awful lot less than paying the hospital for care after he caught a bad case of pneumonia. He could hear Gerard’s light snoring through the crack of his bedroom door. Frank felt an itch for something. He knew exactly what the itch was for.

He swung his feet onto the floor and reached for his backpack. He pulled out the glasses case he kept his heroin and supplies to shoot up with. The case contained a spoon, cotton swabs, a lighter, needles still in the package, and the bag of the drug. There was also a water bottle he kept with him so he’d always have water to help him out. Though it would be so much easier to smoke it, he never liked doing that. He hated the smell of the foil burning from the lighter and hated having to maneuver the straw to suck up all the smoke. To him, it felt like a huge waste for much less of a high.

He opened one of the needles and sucked water into it. Tan powder got emptied into the spoon and Frank squirted some water next to the pile. He held fire from the lighter underneath the spoon until a few bubbles started to come up. He shook the spoon a small bit to help with the mixing. Once it was satisfactory, Frank dropped a small ball of cotton into the spoon and sucked the liquid into the needle.

He tied a ripped piece of cloth around the top of his bicep and held one end with his mouth to keep it tight. There were no air bubbles, but he squirted out a bit of liquid just to play it as safe as it could get. The tip of the needle pushed through his skin with a small, easy pop and met with his vein, there was always a moment of panic before Frank pushed the plug down, scared it might not have made it into his vein. He was always very careful about things like that though. He wanted to get high, not die.

Blood swirled into the mix and he pushed the plug down slowly, feeling it start to climb his arm. Once the needle was out of his body, he quickly removed the makeshift tourniquet and threw everything into his backpack hastily. Gerard was still steadily snoring. He flopped back down onto his previous place on the couch and watched the stars. Like he always did. The high engulfed his body in a cloud of warmth and he smiled to himself, content.

 -

Gerard held half a bagel in his mouth and was wrapping a scarf around his neck. Frank was sat on the floor a few feet away from him tying the laces on his clunky, tan boots. He stood up and tightened his belt. Gerard pulled his backpack strap over his shoulder and handed Frank the other half of the bagel, smeared with cream cheese. He pulled his bright orange vest over a gray hoodie and took the bagel out of Gerard’s hand.

“Do you do construction?” Gerard asked, pulling an apple out of the bowl on the counter.

“Yeah, the guy I work for hires without any questions. They usually hire illegal immigrants and stuff. Which was good for me since I was still underage. You just have to sign a waiver that if you die or get hurt, you won't sue.” Frank took a bite from the bagel.

Gerard made an approving noise, signalling he understood since he had a bagel back in his mouth. He clicked the kitchen light off and opened the front door, letting Frank go through first. Gerard turned around to lock the door and when he turned back around, his eyes fell on Frank. He was standing with his head up and eyes wide, looking at the ceiling and the doors, studying his surroundings. He always seemed to be looking above him.

At the bus stop, the boys parted ways. Frank announced he walked to work since it was within a few blocks. Since the bus was already packing people in, Gerard waved his goodbyes and boarded the bus. Once seated, he looked through the window. Frank was stood with a grin full of teeth, waving goodbye to Gerard.

-

Frank kept his hands in his pockets while he walked home on the dark sidewalks. He knew where he was going since he spent so many nights _on_ the building anyway. He just needed to remember to go through the doors, not up the fire escape. His eyes fell on a calico cat lying right in the middle of the sidewalk. Frank sped his pace up a bit to see what it was doing there. He was afraid it was dead, almost terrified. He wasn't sure why, since it wasn't his cat. But he hoped to god it was still alive.

The cat was mostly black and had bits of orange and brown on its back. Frank pushed it softly with the front of his boot and the cat’s head shot up, its big, green eyes looked straight into Frank’s, they were mirroring each other. Frank noticed one of the cats eyes was closed. 

He squatted down and pet its head and the cat rolled over onto its back. He stroked the cat’s white underside and scratched under its chin before straightening his body up and carrying back on. He walked the rest of the sidewalk. He turned the corner and saw the building. He caught himself making his way to the fire escape staircase, but stopped himself.

Frank opened the front doors and the calico cat pushed its way through his legs. It trotted steps in front of him and sat down, looking proud. He stood with an open mouth and looked behind him to see if someone was messing with him. Frank shooed it away, trying to make it go back outside, but it didn’t budge. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the lobby so he just gave a defeated sigh and walked to the elevator, the cat following him still.

Frank stared at the animal the whole way up, it looked dirtier than it did outside. Dust coated the whole animal, making its white paws tan. One of its ears had a scar running down just off center, it looked like the ear had been sliced open and left to heal on its own. A small gap where skin should be on the point of the ear made him shiver when he thought of the pain the animal must've gone through. She looked fine now though. The cat was also missing its left eye.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Frank and the cat walked out together. He knocked on the door, looking at the cat sitting, waiting to get in.

“Hey,” Gerard opened the door.

“Hey, uh, how do you feel about cats?” Frank blurted.

“I-” The cat made walked between Gerard’s leg and sniffed around the apartment like a dog would. “Who is that? Its… unique.” He looked sympathetic towards it.

“I know she’s ugly,” Frank took off his vest and hoodie. “But she followed me all the way home. I didn’t know what to do.”

Gerard chewed on his lip, weighing the situation he was in. “What do you wanna call her?”

He chewed at his chapped lips, thinking of what would fit the ugly animal. “Fungus.” Frank looked at the cat curled on the couch. "You really wanna let her stay here?"

“Fungus.” Gerard repeated, feeling the way it came through his mouth. “I don't mind her here. Should we get a cat box now? Or a food bowl?” Gerard looked nervous.

“Uh, let’s wait some time.” Frank tried to calm him. “She doesn’t seem like the accident type, I’ll let her outside every now and then and see if she wants to stay.”

“How long do we wait?” He swallowed, never having taken care of a cat before.

“Not long,” Frank desperately tried to ease his nerves. “Just to see if she wants to live here. I promise she’ll behave, okay?”

“Alright, but she's _your_ dirty cat.” He joked.

Frank put his hands up. “All mine.”

-

Frank came through the front door to find Gerard lying on the couch watching TV. Fungus laid on his chest, her eyes were shut and she was purring. The cat opened her one eye to see him, and acknowledged him with a small rise of her voice. Gerard rubbed his eyes and waved. Frank took his backpack off his shoulders and set it onto the floor. He pulled out two bottles of wine and held them up with a huge grin to Gerard.

“I got paid and wanted to celebrate. I got both because I didn’t know if you’d want white or red.” Frank sat down on the floor so his head was near Gerard's.

“Nice! I like both. That’s so great.” Gerard turned the bottles over in his hand and read the French labels out loud. “I just ordered takeout so-” Gerard cocked his head to look Frank in the eyes. “Wait, you can’t buy alcohol. You’re not 21.”

“I know, but I paid this guy twenty bucks if he’d buy me wine. He bought this cheap ass wine and kept the money I gave him for it so really he pocketed like forty tonight.” Frank laid his head on a couch pillow.

Gerard laughed. “You got scammed. You should’ve just went to the liquor store downtown. For five extra bucks the guy there would sell you anything.”

“Fuck,” Frank faked frustration. “I’ll be sure to take myself way into the most dangerous part of town so I can buy cheap wine for less next time.”

Gerard pushed Frank shoulder softly. “Don’t be a baby.”

Someone, who they assumed was bringing the food, knocked on the door and Gerard swung his legs over to get up off the couch. He tipped the delivery boy and brought the bag of food into the living room.

“It's Chinese, is that okay?” Gerard sat on the floor next to where Frank previously was and sat a box and a pair of chopsticks down.

“Yeah, that’s cool.” Frank looked through the kitchen for wine glasses and a bottle opener. He found a corkscrew, but no wine glasses. So he just picked up to normal glass cups. He sat next to Gerard on the floor and handed him a cup. Frank took the cork out of the wine bottle and poured the deep red liquid into the cups.

Frank began to eat and drink the aromatic alcohol. Gerard finished first and sat Indian style on the hard floor, starting to feel a bit more than tipsy. Frank finished eating moments later and unscrewed the white wine.

“But hey, we didn’t finish the red one.” Gerard lifted his head and managed to speak clearly.

“I know, Gee, but I wanna drink this pretty one.” Frank slurred a bit. He drank a lot more than Gerard. “It looks glittery.”

“You know when I was in high school I loved to drink red wine.” Gerard shared. He lowered himself onto his elbows and straightened out his legs. “I was so pretentious in school. Gimme some of that white wine.” He pushed his cup to Frank.

“What do you mean you were pretentious?” Frank sipped out of his cup.

“Well, I didn’t like the other kids all through school. Just because I thought they weren’t worth my time.” Gerard swallowed a mouthful of wine. “I did have one friend, actually.”

“Yeah?” Frank climbed onto the couch and laid on his stomach, looking to Gerard. “What were they like?” He spoke a bit clearer than earlier, trying to keep his speech clean.

“Oh, well, it was a girl. I was a really sensitive kid. And these boys were picking on me at recess and I was crying. So she offered me some of her graham crackers and told me not to cry because it would only give me a headache.” Gerard laughed and the smile stayed glued on his face. “We were like, seven, I think. She was my only friend through school until eighth grade. She moved to California. And I was pretty much alone since then. Until now.” Gerard filled his mouth with the drink again.

“I had friends until sixth grade.” Frank began. “Yeah, no one liked me because they thought I was weird. I dunno. When middle school started, people started to avoid me. In eighth grade I hadn’t had a girlfriend yet and people started calling me gay. Going to catholic school, that was the end for me. My dad even asked me if I was gay. But then freshman year,” Frank let out a loud laugh. “Freshman year, this girl came up to me and said she was gay too and needed a fake boyfriend. And I was like 'okay'. So we fake dated until I finished school after sophomore year.”

“So you had a beard for two years?” Gerard was surprised.

“Yeah, she was nice though. She was cute too. If I wasn’t so focused on playing guitar the whole time we were fake dating maybe I would’ve actually gotten closer to her. I would’ve liked to real date her if she wasn’t gay.” Frank drank the red straight from the bottle this time.   

“Well, are you gay?” Gerard asked, confused.

Frank scoffed. “No,” He swallowed more wine and sat up. “I'm bisexual. Fuckin’ bisexual.” Frank sighed and looked at the ceiling for a moment. He dropped his head down and looked at Gerard. “Are you gay?”

“Pretty gay.” Gerard crawled over to the couch and laid his head on the cushion.

“I wish I was pretty gay. Sometimes I feel like I should just pick a side, y’know? It sucks because I never know _exactly_ what I want from anyone.” Frank complained and laid his face in his hands. “If I get a girlfriend then am I just going to be unhappy because I want a boyfriend too? I mean not at the same time, but I want one. Just never know if I’ll be happy enough with one or the other. It makes me think I’m selfish and like I’m not lovable.”

“No,” Gerard started to slur his words now. “No, Frank, no. You don’t even have to pick a side if you don’t wanna and you know why? Do you know why?” Gerard looked him in the eyes.

“Why?” Frank pouted.

“Because if people had to pick a side why would bisexuality exist? Hm? It’s a real thing and you should embrace the fact that you like both. You can’t choose who you love. I’m sure if you gave dating a chance, you’d feel more in touch with what you want. You aren’t selfish and definitely not unlovable.” Gerard kept the words as straight as he could.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Frank’s mouth stretched into a small grin. “Since I was a kid- as long as I can remember, I just feel like uh,” Frank sat up fast and pushed his fingertips into his chest. “Like something is just missing in _here._ And it pisses me off because I don’t know what to do. Sometimes it just aches and aches.” Frank laid back down. “And I do stupid shit to try to fill it and even if I get rid of it for some time with a quick fix, once it wears off or I wake up, it’s still there. Getting deeper.”

“Like you’re missing something but you don't know what?” He nodded.

“Yeah. But I’ve tried everything. Almost everything and it just digs itself deeper and deeper every-fucking-day.” He threw his head back, annoyed.

“Well what have you tried? You don’t know what you need until you do it.” Gerard pressed.

Frank swallowed two mouthfuls of wine before he answered. “Uh, guitar, poetry, photography, fitness, and lots and lots of drugs.”

“Do you still do drugs?” Gerard asked after a minute of thinking.

“Would you kick me out if I said yes?” Frank smiled slightly.

“Definitely not.” Gerard shook his head. "Would you lie to me about it?

“Then yes.” Frank outstretched his hand to switch wine bottles with Gerard. "No, I wouldn't lie to you."

“Like what?” He handed his red over and took the white.

“Uh, started with weed. Then pills. Painkillers and anti-anxiety shit.” Frank started to slur his words more, not caring about keeping them clear anymore. “Then hard shit. Never meth though. Did some coke and shrooms once when I was sixteen. Then started doing heroin.”

“Heroin? Isn’t that shit like super addictive?” Gerard gripped the bottle with both hands.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Frank tipped the bottle back again. “I wanna talk about this another time when my brain's not all smeared, okay?” Frank held his pinky finger to Gerard.

“For sure, Frank.” They locked their pinky fingers together until Frank was satisfied and let go. “You know what I noticed you didn't mention trying?” Gerard asked

“What?” Frank’s eyes flicked to meet Gerard’s.

“Love.” He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. “You never said you tried to love or be loved. Maybe that’s it?”

“You know what? That’s probably it.” Frank laughed. “With my needy ass what else could it be? Gee, did you ever like girls or did you always only like boys?”

“I just liked boys.” Gerard tipped the neck of the white bottle into his mouth. “I thought it was normal until my family started asking me about girlfriends and crushes and I only liked boys. But none of them were openly gay and I didn’t need to add that to the list of reasons for them to bully me.”

“You know what, Gerard?” Frank sat up quick and swallowed the rest of the wine that was in the bottle.

“Hm?” He swallowed. 

“I think I uh, have a crush on you maybe. No, yes I do. Probably definitely.” Frank could barely keep his eyes straight. “And I know you’re thinking I’m saying this just because I’m drunk, but I’m not! I think you're handsome, and nice, and I would love to spend more time around you. I probably sound so dumb.” He laughed uneasily.

“Nothing you said sounded dumb.” Gerard slurred. “Frank, I think you’re super handsome and also super nice. I also would like to spend time with you. And I think I might have a crush on you too. Even before I talked to you,” Gerard hiccuped. “When I saw you on the fire escape but I was too scared to say anything, I thought you were so pretty.”

Frank slumped his body that felt abnormally heavy on the floor next to Gerard. He leaned close to Gerard, attempting to close the gap between their faces and Gerard started to lean in, but stopped abruptly.

“Wait, Frank.” Gerard laid a hand on the boy’s cheek. “We're both _very_ drunk, that's obvious.” He had to put a lot of effort in to get the sentence out.

“You sound like you got a sock in your mouth.” Frank interrupted. “What is it? You don’t think you want me like that?”

“Lemme finish.” Gerard put a finger on Frank’s lips. “I think I do wanna kiss you right now, but I don’t think I want to kiss you when we are both so drunk. You get it?”

Frank laid his head on Gerard’s lap and he started to run his fingers on his scalp. “Yeah, I guess I get it. But even if I am drunk or not even drunk I know what I feel about you, Gerard. Because I like you a lot a lot. Also, your hand is making me tired.” Frank pushed Gerard’s hand off his head.

“You wanna sleep now? I’m pretty tired.” Gerard hiccuped again.

“Yeah I do. Goodnight.” Frank climbed onto the couch again.

“Actually, do you wanna sleep in my bed? Got plenty of space in there.” He stood up. “I just feel bad every night because you haven't slept in a bed for so long and I got a big one right there.”

“Uh, yes.” Frank followed Gerard into the bedroom. He fell onto the mattress and rubbed his face in the sheets. “I love beds. I haven’t even touched one in forever.”

Gerard pulled the blanket over his body and watched Frank climb under, feeling every fiber in the sheets that touched his skin. Gerard flipped onto his side with his back to Frank. He felt Frank’s forehead lay on the back of his shoulder, his steady, warm breath felt nice in contrast with the cold air that surrounded them. Gerard closed his eyes and let the wine filling his head lull him into a heavy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) thank u for reading it means a lot


	5. Five

Gerard awoke in a panic, the light spilling into the room through the curtains suggested it was sometime in the afternoon. He sat up quickly and glanced at his watch, knowing he had already missed any classes he could’ve ran to. A yellow sticky note covered the clock and he rubbed his eyes to adjust so he could read. In cartoony handwriting there were a few small words. ‘ _Fed the cat. Cleaned up a bit. Went to work. Enjoy your day off. - Frank P.S left you an anti hangover pack on the counter’._

“Oh, right. Duh. Gerard whispered to himself, realizing he didn’t have class or work today. He stood up and he felt the full force of the headache caused by the night before weigh down on his skull. He groaned and continued to the bathroom where he wondered if he should conserve his energy or just throw up. He hunched over the toilet and let the latter get the best of him. He let his stomach try to empty itself out and brushed his teeth before dragging himself under the shower head.

Once dressed, he actually looked at the time and realized it was a lot earlier in the day than he had thought. Still the afternoon, though. He made his way out of the room and the light hit his eyes a little too hard. He winced and covered them with his arm. He rapidly blinked, trying to regain his sight and he saw a pile of things on the counter, which he assumed was Frank’s “anti hangover pack”.  He rummaged through the pile and found Tylenol tabs, a note that told him to drink water and juice, a sleeve of crackers, and a pillow. Gerard threw the pills in his mouth and swallowed them dry, cringing a bit when they stayed in the middle of his throat. He filled a glass with water and chugged it, hoping to feel even slightly better as soon as he could. He drank another glass of water before filling the glass with orange juice from the fridge and waddling towards the living room. Fungus hopped up on a stool in hopes that Gerard would stop to pet her. She jumped onto the stool that had Frank’s open backpack sitting on it. She was closer to him and pawed at his hip that was leaned against the counter.

He dropped his hand onto her head and scratched behind her ears and continued onto his journey to the couch. Fungus jumped off the stool and took Frank’s backpack with her. It fell upside down, causing the contents to spill out onto the floor. Gerard walked back over to the spill and set his glass down on the counter. He squatted down and gathered the items into his hand. His fingers closed around a glasses case, curious to see the pair, Gerard opened the case.

“Fuck.” He gasped. His eyes fell first on the needles, then the small bag of heroin. He picked up the burnt spoon and touched the inside dip. His fingers shook and only gently allowed him to brush against it. He lifted the bag up to the light and squinted at the contents filling it, ignoring the pain in his eyes. He dropped it back in the case and pushed everything into the backpack.

Gerard left the glass on the counter and took the pillow with him. He plopped himself onto the couch and held his face in his hands. He swung his legs onto the cushion and laid on his side so his face was hidden in the couch. A warm tear caused by frustration dripped down the bridge of his nose and fall off the tip, spreading itself out once it hit fabric. He closed his eyes and tried to stop them from falling with no avail. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling a bit helpless and in need of hope, and let himself fall into sleep again.

 _Gerard found himself making his way down a hazy, too bright hospital hallway. He could smell the disinfectant that all hospitals seem_ _to use, giving it the distinct smell. He walked slowly, rolling his feet from his heels slowly down to his toes. The hallway seemed endless, but he continued, looking for a turn for a way out. He turned to the door of a patient room and tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn't budge. He pushed on it, but the lock was sturdy. He stepped over to the next door and tried to turn the handle, failing again. He started to panic now, speeding up his footwork, meeting each door handle with no luck of opening them. He started to violently shake the doors._

_“Is anyone in there?! Hello?” Gerard yelled as loud as he could. “Is anyone here?” He listened close for any sort of response. Nothing came. The silence felt heavy in his ears._

_“Oh fuck, fuck!” Gerard was in a full panic now, scared of something he couldn't see._

_He started sprinting down the hall, no longer stopping at the doors, knowing they would all be locked. He kept running, even though his legs started to feel like they were about to break. He finally came upon a turn in the hall. His legs slowed and he caught his breath. He laid his fingers on the corner of the wall as he curved his neck to look around for who or what was waiting for him._

_His eyes fell down onto a solitary wheelchair with its back turned to him. He crept towards the chair, cautious around it. He looked down the hall in front of him and the hall he came from, it looked shorter, but there was no one in either of them. The silence started to make his stomach feel like it was ti_ ed _in knots. Gerard made his way around it and looked into the seat._

_There, in the small dip of the middle, lay a bloody human heart. Gerard swallowed hard through a dry throat and reached out to pick it up. He scooped it up into the palm of his hand and held it softly. The warm blood that was previously spread on the heart made its way onto his hand and covered his fingers, the crimson drops began to drip down onto the linoleum floor. The slow, steady beating of the heart in Gerard’s hand contrasted against the fast, sporadic beating of the heart in his chest. He turned it over in his hand, studying the veins traveling along the edges._

_He heard a gasp behind him and Gerard spun around hastily. At the opposite end of the hall a pale figure in a hospital gown stood still, staring back at Gerard, the eyes seemed to glow, drawing Gerard's attention to them. The two stood just as frozen as each other. The beat pattern of the warm heart in Gerard’s hand sped up. His eyes broke from the figure to look down at the fast paced, struggling heart. He stared down at it, wondering if the sudden jump in activity related to his current situation._

_He felt eyes burning into the back of his head and he slowly turned his head to look back. His eyes met with another pair. The huge, glassy, green eyes didn't blink. They sat protruding out of the skull, looking scared, looking_ for _something. Chills shot down Gerard's body and he backed up until his back was pressed hard against the wall. He registered the face in his head and realized it was Frank, staring at the heart in his hand. On the front of his hospital gown, dried blood stained the left down to his midsection. At the top left section of his chest, there was a dark brown stain, darker than the rest of the blood stains on the gown. Blood dripped from his mouth and down onto his chest. Gerard wrapped his other hand around the heart and held it to his chest, feeling the need to protect it. The two hearts he carried were only separated by thin layers of skin, muscle, and bone._

_Frank took a small step forward and held out a closed hand to Gerard and held out and open hand with his palm up. Gerard laid his open hand under the closed fist. Frank unraveled his fingers and dropped something warm and fleshy into his hand. Gerard brought it closer to his face and squinted at it. He realized it was a severed tongue, the end where it was separated from the body looked ragged and like it was hard to disconnect. He realized how much pain Frank must've experienced to have his tongue removed this brutally and a small, scared noise rose out of his throat. The corners of Frank's mouth rose into a smile and he bared closed, bloody teeth to Gerard._

_His mouth fell back down into a neutral position and he urged his hand towards Gerard. He looked down into his hand at the heart he was holding. The beating had stopped and the organ had started to go cold against his own flesh. He held it out to Frank, who quickly grabbed it in his shaky hand. He felt the cold, still muscle in his hand and flicked his eyes from the heart to Gerard. Sweat started to bead on his forehead and his eyes started to water. He shook the heart towards Gerard in a panic._

_“What?” He took a step back from Frank._

_He made a pained sound from his throat and dropped to his knees, he pulled the gown down off of his shoulders and let it pile on his thighs. He pushed the unbeating heart into an open wound in the left side of his chest. He held his hands over the gap, but the heart pushed itself out and fell onto the slick floor. Frank made a weeping noise as he was hunched over the heart on the floor. His forehead met with the cold floor and his mouth opened, dripping blood and letting out loud sobs. He sat up and held his hand out to Gerard again. Gerard dropped the tongue into his hand, quickly. Frank pushed the tongue into his mouth and it stayed in. He opened his mouth again, only to let out loud more sobs. Gerard sunk down to his knees in front of Frank and put a hand on his bare shoulder._

_“Gerard.” Frank wailed._

_“What?” Gerard shook his shoulder a bit. “What is it?”_

_“Gerard!” Frank screamed in pain. He kept his head down, not looking at him._

_“What?! Please look at me!” Gerard held onto both of his shoulders and shook him hard, Frank's head flopped back on his neck like a rag doll._

_“Gee,” He whispered. Gerard stared back at him, waiting.“Gerard!” The harsh bark flew between his teeth._

“Gerard!” Frank shook him by the shoulder.

Gerard opened his eyes and gasped. His eyes met with Frank’s big, glassy ones. He touched his chest and felt for the gap that wasn't there.

“You okay?” Gerard asked, needing an answer.

“Yeah, are you? You feel okay? You left a whole glass of juice on the counter.” Frank laughed and laid his hand on Gerard's forehead. “You feel kind of hot.”

“Weird dream. I feel fine.” Gerard sat up. “Did you feel okay at work? Didn't you have a hangover?”

Frank started to drink the warm juice.

“Oh, yeah. I didn't feel too bad, I don't get bad hangovers.” Frank shrugged. “You look awful.”

Gerard laughed. “I feel awful too. I don't drink much.”

“You awake? You sound super tired still.” Frank sat down on the couch and started to untie his shoes. “You want some coffee or something?” He laid his legs on the couch and stuffed his feet behind where Gerard was sitting.

“Mm, no. I just wanna nap again.” Gerard laid down and set his crossed feet next to Frank's head.

“Sounds good to me.” He stretched out and got comfortable against a couch pillow.

 -

Gerard sat, hearing the professor lecture him on paint mixing techniques, but he wasn't processing the words. Mainly because it was boring him out of his skin, but also because the whispered conversation happening next to him was more interesting. He leaned over a bit, wanting to really get a better listen even though he knew it was wrong to snoop.

“You sure you don't know anyone?” The guy in the red hoodie sighed and slumped down.

“Yeah,” the guy in the black shirt shook his hand in the air. “Music majors are douche-y. I don't hang with those guys.”

“You have _no_ friends who would wanna do this?” Red hoodie asked an obvious question.

“ _No_ , dude. I already said.” He sounded irritated.

“Please tell me if you meet any though? Before winter break, _please_.” Red hoodie practically begged.

“Yeah, whatever, dude.” Black shirt brushed him off, obviously annoyed.

“Hey.” Gerard bumped red hoodies shoulder.

“Excuse me!” The professor interrupted. “If you have something better to discuss, take it outside. Thank you, now as I was saying,” He continued to blather on to deaf ears.

Gerard grumbled, scribbling on a piece of doodling paper in his notebook. He tore it off and folded it in half before sliding it onto the desk of the guy in the red hoodie.

Red hoodie opened it and moved his mouth as he struggled to read Gerard's awful handwriting in his head. _‘Heard you talking about needing someone who plays music? I might know someone.’_ One side of red hoodie’s mouth flicked up and he flipped the scrap of paper over to reply.

He slid it over to Gerard and he managed to read through the cursive handwriting quickly. ‘ _Yeah. Starting a band. Need a guitar or drummer. Know one?’_

‘ _I know a guitar player! When would you need to meet?’_

_‘Sometime before winter break. But the band will start playing after New Years if we're lucky.’_

Gerard wrote his phone number on another piece of ripped notebook paper. ‘ _Keep in touch. I'm Gerard.’_

Red hoodie passed him back another piece of paper with his own phone number written on it. ‘ _Just in case. I'm Eugene.’_

-

Gerard waited anxiously for Frank to get home, eager to tell him the good news about the band that needed someone like him. His leg bounced up and down and he ran his fingers over the creases of the paper with Eugene’s cellphone number on it. He huffed and chewed on his fingernails. The fact that it was already two hours past the normal time Frank would get home from work was starting to make Gerard’s mind fill with thoughts he didn’t want to think. He rubbed his eyes hard, attempting to rub the thoughts away. A millisecond after the lock clicked and Frank came through the door, he was right in his face, eager to tell him the exciting news. Frank bent down quickly to untie his laces and remove his shoes.

“Guess what I did today?” Gerard bounced on his heels.

“What'd you do?” Frank kicked his shoes off, his back turned to Gerard. Frank pulled his hoodie off his body and groaned, sounding like his body ached.

Gerard slid the paper back into his pocket. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt at work?” Gerard put his hands on Frank's shoulders, but he kept his face down.

“Uh, don't freak out.” Frank turned around and let Gerard see his face. He gasped and held a hand over his mouth. “Got an ass beating.” Frank laughed uneasily, then held his side and winced.

Gerard reached out to touch the bruise starting to form on his cheek and he hissed, imagining how hard they must’ve hit him. A trail of gooey blood dripped from his nose and onto his neck, he also assumed it would be on his jacket. His bottom lip was split and started to swell up, making the right side look bigger than the left.

“What happened?” Gerard managed after inspecting the awful scene. “Did they mug you?”

“No,” Frank sighed. “It's- uh, remember what I told you the other night when I was drunk? When I was talking about, uh, drugs?”

“Come here, let me clean up your face.” Gerard led him to the kitchen sink. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I went to buy, uh, drugs and came up short. So the guy said I was trying to play him, but his shit was just overpriced.” He hissed when the wet paper towel came in contact with a cut on his cheek. “So he started beating on me and his fuckin’ buddies joined in.” He held up his head to let Gerard clean the blood off his neck. “Bunch of pussies if you ask me.”

“Yeah.” Gerard agreed. “How many were there?”

Frank scoffed. “Three, I think.”

“Three against one is ridiculous. If you can't fight one on one, you’re either weak or in over your fucking head.” Gerard stated. “Oh, Frank.” He cried, watching Frank’s chest shakily rise and fall. “What's wrong with your chest?”

“Kicked me in the ribs a few times. I don't think they did anything serious.” He pulled his shirt up over his head, exposing red marks along his sides beginning to turn purple. “Nothing feels like it’s cracked or bruised inside. Just the outside.”

Gerard stared at the huge bruises, imagining how much force must've been put behind each kick. He also noticed the small, round scabs on the inner, upper part of his forearm where it bent. He laid his thumb over it and Frank gasped and nervously pulled his arm back.

“Were you buying heroin?” Gerard spoke quietly.

“Yeah,” Frank whispered and nodded. “But what the fuck does it matter?” He spoke in a harsher tone. “I'm already beat to shit, you knowing what I was trying to buy isn't gonna change the past. I’m just a fucking junkie, I deserve this.” Frank’s voice started to shake and Gerard didn’t know if he was crying or if the rib pains were causing it.

He pushed past Gerard and disappeared into the room. Gerard huffed and leaned against the counter, not expecting Frank to get that worked up about his question. His hand flew to his pocket and he felt the paper inside. He chewed on his lip, deciding if now was the right time or not. He didn't know if Frank was too worked up to process the offer or even _listen_ to what he had to say, considering his previous outburst of negative emotion.

“Fuck it.” Gerard told himself and made his way into the bedroom. His eyes fell on Frank, who was laid on on his side, dressed already in pajamas. “Frank?” Gerard wearily called. He could see his eyelashes blinking, so he sat himself on the bed in front of Frank’s chest. “Some guys at school were looking for a guitar player for their band. I brought you up.” He handed him the folded notebook paper. “That's the guy's number.”

Frank stared, mesmerized at what Gerard had just told him. He took the paper in shaky hands, not believing an offer like this would come up at a time like this. He unfolded the paper and looked at the scribbled number with the name underneath it. He jumped up out of bed, silently cursing at the ache in his torso, but ran to Gerard, who was a few steps away stepping his bare legs into a pair of pajama pants, and gripped him from behind.  

“Thank you! Fuck, dude!” Frank hugged Gerard's shoulders from behind. “I don't even know what to say! Thank you!” He pulled Gerard down to his height level and snaked his neck around so he was able to kiss him on the cheek.

“It's no problem.” He laughed. “They needed a guitar player and I know one.”

“Fuck, when do I try out?” Frank let go of him and Gerard turned around.

“Sometime before or after my winter break.” He pulled the waistband up once his second leg was in the loose fabric.

“I gotta save money for a guitar. Fuck, I need to rent one or something. I think I'll rent one by New Years at least so I can brush up and meet the guy.” Frank laughed, his eyes darted around underneath his eyelids while he planned out his next few weeks. “This is so cool, thank you _so_ much. Goodnight, I got work in the morning and I know you’ve got school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u sm for reading :-)


	6. Six

Frank tossed his uncomfortable body over in the bed and looked at the back of Gerard's head. The moonlight coming through the thin curtains shone on his dark hair, making it look a shade of dark blue rather than the shade of dark black it usually shone. His bare back faced him and he looked at the few small freckles that climbed across the pale skin. He reached out to touch one, but stopped himself. The blanket laid smoothly over the curve of Gerard's hip. He could see the elastic band of his pajama bottoms clinging softly to the skin.

“Hey Gee?” Frank started talking before he could stop himself. “Are you awake?”

“Mhm.” He moaned.

“Awake enough to talk to me?” Frank ghosted a finger over the freckles.

Gerard pulled his body up and laid on his back so he could prop himself up on his elbows. He rubbed hard at his eyes and squinted at Frank. “Yeah, what is it?”

“I wanna get clean.” Frank fidgeted with his fingers.

“Like sober?” Gerard pushed himself up into a sitting position. Frank nodded. “Alright, well. How do you want us to do it?”

“You wanna help me?”

“Yeah, of course. Start tomorrow? Tomorrows my last day of school for break. You could cash in your vacation days? You never take days off.” Gerard began constructing a plan.

“Uh, y-yeah. Sounds good.” Frank was taken aback a bit by Gerard's urgency to help him. “Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. Once you get home we’ll get rid of all the drugs. We’ll get into something comfortable and just _wait_  for you to be sober. Work for you?” He hugged his knees to his chest and laid his head down on them.

“Wait,” Frank began to find flaws and holes in the plot. “I thought you were gonna go spend Christmas with your family. You know this will take a few days, right? I don't want you to ruin your holiday for me.”

“I know. I can always go later. Nothing extravagant is happening. Or is it that you want to do inpatient care?” Gerard cocked his head.

“No,” Frank barked. “Please no hospitals. Those places look like fucking nightmares.” He almost started begging.

“Alright, it's settled then? Tomorrow night, you begin life as a sober man.” He accepted Frank's reluctance to go to a hospital, mainly because between the two of them and their lack of health insurance, the care would be way too fucking expensive. 

“I fuckin guess _so_.” Frank laughed nervously. “Night, man.”

“Get some rest, you'll need it.” Gerard let his legs straighten out and he turned back over to lay on his side again.

“Yeah, you will too.” Frank began to feel a little sick from nerves.

-

Frank opened the door to hear Gerard practically yelling. He tip toed in with caution.

“Yeah, mom! You're not listening. I _can’t!_ I'm behind on so much school work I have to finish that before I can get anywhere near a break.” He listened to the yelling coming from the phone for a minute. “A while, mom. It's the fucking math class! Listen, I'll call you once I'm done, alright. For now, I don't exist. I got a lot of work to do. Love you, bye.”

“You're serious?” Frank spoke right after Gerard ended the call. 

“You scared me.” He sighed. “Yeah I am serious. Ready?”

“No.” Frank slumped his shoulders down.

“Too bad. Give me all of your drugs.” He shooed him to turn around and lead him to his stash.

Frank made his way to his backpack in the corner of the bedroom. “Alright, it's all in here.” He sat down Indian style on the floor and Gerard followed.

“Let's get it all out.” Gerard unzipped it.

Frank pulled out the glasses case and dumped everything into a pile on the floor.

“That it?” Gerard asked, ready to get up.

“I just scratched the surface.” Frank started to laugh. “Sit down, I've got a whole pharmacy in here.”

He turned his backpack upside down and emptied the contents into a separate pile. The notebook Gerard saw him writing in before was the first thing Frank's hands flew to. He held the cardboard cover and held the book so the pages were hanging down. He shook it a bit, waiting for something to fall out. Gerard gripped the pages between his fingers and flipped through them. A tiny, flat bag fell into Frank's lap.

“What's that?”

“Uh, cheap heroin.” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “Never used it because I was too chicken. It's cut with really dirty stuff.” Gerard tossed it into the drug pile and Frank pushed the book back into the bag. Frank picked up a pair of shoes and pulled one of the soles out. He flipped it upside down and out fell another bag with white powder in it. “Crushed pills. Don't remember exactly what. Might be a mix of things. Shitty things apparently, it looks old as fuck.” He tried to remember where he even got that from.

Gerard sighed and threw it into the drug pile.

They tore apart every piece of material Frank owned, making sure everything was removed. Gerard was extra observational and invasive, making sure _absolutely no_ drugs went back inside the backpack. He was astonished at the lengths Frank went to to keep his supply hidden from anyone. He was sure if the whole FBI and their drug dogs took a look into this backpack, half the drugs in there would never be found. There were empty dime bags, leftover leaves and stems from cheap weed, random pills that Frank could sometimes not identify himself, a pipe with weed ashes still packed into the bowl, and an empty flask, with the smell of whiskey staining the inside.

Once everything was packed back into the backpack Gerard laid his back against the wall. “You sure that's all of it?”

“Uh, yeah. I don't think you would've let me keep anything the way you were eyeballing all my stuff.” Frank joked.

“Let's flush this shit. Gerard gathered the pills and empty heroin bags in his hands, knowing that's what would cause the most distress for Frank. He didn't mind him sweeping up leftover weed. He did, however, mind the pungent smell that stuck to Frank's skin because of that drug, though.

“Man, how do you smoke that shit? It smells so _sour._ ” Gerard struggled to describe the smell exactly.

“Once you smoke it, it smells different. Like herby-ish. It doesn't smell this bad once it's smoked.” Frank smelled the dope through the bag in his cupped hands. “Do you want to smoke this with me?”

“Are you serious?” He scoffed. "You're unbelievable, I'm trying to get you off drugs now and you're asking me to smoke weed with you." He laughed.

“You said sober by night time. The sun is _just_ about to set. I promise, weed isn't gonna bug me out like that shit you have in your hands.” He chewed on his lip, not sure if it was alright to ask to be able to smoke it or not. To be fair, he had recently bought it for a lot of money.

“Frank,” Gerard dropped the small heroin bags into the toilet. “I'm not sure it's such a good idea. I've never smoked weed or seen anyone do it.” He let the pills fall from his hand and into the toilet with small plop noises.

“I wanna get off heroin. I don't think there's anything wrong with weed?” Frank held the two bags in between his fingers. He dropped the stray leaves and dirt weed into the water, but held onto the good weed in the bags. "It's not such a bad drug as president Nixon or whoever the fuck told everyone it was, every scary weed thing you've every heard was probably a lie." Frank shrugged. 

Gerard hummed in thought, weighing his options. Either make Frank go into his heroin detox one hundred percent sober, or just let him calm his nerves with a bit of smoking. “How much is that?” Gerard flushed the toilet.

“Two grams.” Frank leaned his head over and cringed watching the drugs circle the bowl and get sucked down into the pipes.

“Was it expensive?”

“This isn't cheap. It was like $30 for these two grams. So not really _expensive_ , but still expensive for this.” He attempted to explain. 

Gerard set his hands on his hips as he watched the toilet fill back up with clean, drug free water. He sighed. “Fine, lets smoke the fucking weed, if you really want to that bad.” He couldn't help but smile at the way Frank's face lit up.

" _Lets?_ You mean you too?" Frank smiled wide, feeling very, very surprised. “You want to? Like, you're seriously saying you _want_ to smoke this weed with me?”

Gerard kissed his teeth. “Might as well. The rest of the drugs are gone and I guess weed isn't that bad.” He laughed. "Like fucking  _President Nixon_ said"

-

“You wanna hit it first?” Frank offered once he finished packing the bowl.

“No, I want to see you do it so I can do it right.” Gerard shook his head.

“Okay well, watch and learn.” He brought it up to his lips and held the flame from the lighter to the green drug packed down. He held the sides of the bowl and the length of the pipe as he inhaled. Gerard watched the smoke travel through the colorful pipe and disappear into Frank's lips. He handed the lighter and pipe to Gerard, holding the smoke in.

Gerard held the lighter flame to the weed and inhaled, but Frank noticed he didn't realize to put his finger over the hole next to the bowl where smoke tried to escape from.

“Hey,” smoke traveled out of Frank's mouth and nostrils as he spoke. “Want me to do it for you?”

Gerard nodded. Frank let him hold onto the length of the pipe and hold it to his lips.

“Don't inhale till I tell you to. You can stop whenever you feel like it.” He nodded again. Frank lit it and plugged the hole. “Go ahead.”

Gerard sucked the smoke timidly, afraid the heavy smoke would feel harsh in his body. He had smoked cigarettes before, but he wasn't a regular cigarette smoker. It wasn't safe to assume his lungs were ‘used to’ having smoke in them. He felt his throat start to itch way down and his stomach started to feel warm. He took his lips off the pipe.

“Hold it in as long as you can. When you wanna breathe it out, do it slow. Don't choke it out.” Frank looked into his eyes, wanting him to have a good first experience.

“Okay.” Gerard smiled, talking with his breath still in his lungs along with the smoke.

Frank laid his back against the couch and lit the pipe again. At the same time Gerard gave a choppy exhale, Frank started a smooth inhale. He sucked the smoke out fast so he could talk again to guide Gerard.

“It kind of burns?” Gerard looked nervous and furrowed his brow. "And you lied. It still fucking smells gross." He coughed a few times. 

“Yeah, it might burn your throat a little bit. If you're gonna cough, I know you want to, let it out. The longer you hold it in, the worse it's gonna be once it forces its way out.” Frank spoke seriously. "It's uh, an  _acquired_ scent." Frank giggled, lifting the piece back up to his mouth.

Gerard managed to listen even though he was being very much distracted by the thin trail of smoke escaping through Frank's nose and his perfect, crooked teeth. He felt it get harder to breathe right and he started coughing. Small burst at first, but it started to get more intense and harder on his chest. It was scratching his throat and his eyes started to water. Frank leaned over and rubbed circles on his back with his whole hand, trying to console him while he was choking on air and his own spit. He handed him a bottle of water, which Gerard had trouble downing since he was choking already. Once he had drank some water, the coughing subsided a bit and he asked for another hit.

“Light it for me again?” Gerard asked, knowing fully well he could do it himself this time. Frank knew too, but he complied with a smirk. He watched this time as Gerard sucked the smoke in, still hesitantly, but a lot more confident than the previous time. He inhaled a lot more smoke than the first time, and he immediately regretted it once he felt like he was going to be unable to breathe the smoke out, and just painfully cough it out. Frank managed to take two more hits by the time Gerard decided he was done coughing enough to take in more smoke.

“Hey are you feeling like…super...” Gerard coughed, trying to figure out a description for how he was feeling.

“Light?” Frank guessed.

“As a feather?” Gerard laughed. "But anchored." He hit the floor with an open palm.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Frank lit it again and inhaled more.

Gerard took it from his hands, wanting to light it himself this time, thinking it looked cool. He inhaled a lot more smoke this time, feeling his lungs expand to what felt like, their maximum capacity with thick smoke. They felt heavy, somewhat like when clouds hang low in the streets and breathing somehow starts to feel like suffocating, but you enjoy being in the clouds too much to care about getting lightheaded. 

“God damn, Gee, chill.” He laughed, impressed as he watched the giant cloud of smoke escape his mouth and spread out into the air above them. “That was a giant hit, how did you even manage to hold that?”

“I'm a natural I guess.” Gerard joked as he lifted the pipe up to his lips again. He sucked the bit of smoke that came up through the pipe. He felt something on his tongue and stuck it out to pick it off. “There's ash on my tongue?” Frank snapped his head down to look at the ash on his finger. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, no. It's cashed. Gimme.” Frank held out his hand.

“What's that mean?” He handed the pipe and lighter over, feeling dumb for asking him what weed words meant.

He didn't think he was dumb, though. It felt a bit refreshing to know someone who didn't talk like him. “That all the weed that was in there got smoked up.” Frank giggled. He flipped the pipe over the table to empty out the ashes. He packed more weed into the bowl, more than the first time and put it up to his mouth. “Are you done?” He flicked the lighter.

Gerard thought about it while he watched Frank take another inhale from the pipe. He shook his head. “Maybe just a few more. You think?”

“Yeah,” Frank spoke in a deeper voice since smoke was mixed with his air. He exhaled. “Don't get so high that you can't move, though.” He paused. “Or do. Do whatever you wanna with the weed.”

“I want to get a little higher because right now I just feel so,” He inhaled smoke, feeling unable to find his vocabulary. “Not high enough.” Gerard exhaled.

They passed it back and forth, giggling at each other each time they lit the lighter at the end when the flame illuminated their faces in the most unattractive way. Gerard decided to stop after a few more hits, feeling too light, but too heavy at the same time, so Frank finished the rest of the weed, which got him the most stoned off this drug in a long while. Gerard’s eyelids hung loose, barely opened, but he wasn't falling asleep, just focusing on thoughts going through his head. Frank was staring at the stars appearing in the sky through the window now that night had crept up on them, his eyes hyper focused on each star that popped up as the sky got darker.

“Your eyes are _so_ fuckin’ red.” Frank broke the silence, amazed at the pigment of red that overcame the white in his eyes.

“Really?” Gerard started to giggle uncontrollably. “Yours are deep, deep red. Probably more than mine.”

Frank’s stomach growled. “Dude?” He laughed and pulled his shirt up, revealing his soft belly, dark bruises still spotted his skin. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Gerard stared at Frank's stomach, astonished by how loud the sound it made was. He stood up off the couch slowly, keeping his balance and made his way towards the front door. Frank followed him.

“Where you going?” He leaned up against the counter.

“Wanna go eat?” Gerard slipped his feet into his shoes.

“Yes, I sure do.” Frank sung, pushing his feet into a pair of Gerard's shoes. He pulled a jacket over his shoulders and followed Gerard out of the building.

He followed him around to the back of the building where he'd never been before. Gerard led him to a parking garage, where he found a small, black car and slid into the drivers side. Frank got excited and hopped as quick as he could into the passenger side. Gerard turned over the engine and Frank almost moaned at how smooth it sounded. The radio was at a low volume and they kept it there, not needing anything else to hinder their function to completely focus on acting casual.

“I didn't know you had a car!” He pulled the seat belt over his body. “You take the bus to work! Why?”

“So I don't have to pay for gas back and forth.” Gerard answered coolly and backed his car out and onto the street. He managed to keep the car going the speed limit and the steering wheel smooth. “You have your license with you?” He stopped at a red light.

“Fuck yeah I have mine, why?”

“Because I'm struggling real bad to keep this car moving nicely. You might have to drive in a while.” Gerard craned his neck to make sure it was safe to cross the street.

“Fucking yes! I wanna drive!” Frank got excited about the chance to drive a car for the first time since he left home, and even there he was barely able to drive his father's car not even once a week.

“You wanna go through a drive through?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah. I can't manage sitting in a restaurant right now, if I'm being honest.”

Gerard pulled into a drive through for a Mexican restaurant behind a long line of cars. “Switch me real quick?” He unbuckled his seat belt. Frank did the same. They both hopped out of the car and ran past each other to the other side. “You're good to drive?” Gerard asked once they were both in and seat belted.

“You don't trust me behind the wheel?” Frank teased, confidently putting the stick into drive now that the line was moving.

“I trust you.” Gerard smiled.

The girl's voice piercing through the intercom scared the boys, who hadn't realized they were this far up in the line already. Frank gathered what the two wanted and focused on remembering everything. He spoke into the mic. The girl repeated back what he had just ordered and he had, in fact managed to tell her everything they wanted. He pulled forward, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Hi! That'll be $21.50.” The girl tried too hard to make her voice friendly. Frank handed over the cash and thanked her, pulling forward once again.

The guy at the next window handed him their bag of food. “Damn!” He laughed. “You two high?”

“M’nope.” Gerard smiled.

“Very.” Frank nodded.

“A’ight. Keep it tight.” The guy said before Frank rolled the window up and kept driving.

“Keep what tight?” Gerard said after a moment.

“Fuck if I know.” Frank grunted and laughed at the same time.

“Hey turn up here.” Gerard pointed right.

“What? Why?” He pulled into the turning lane.

“I wanna have a picnic.” He said, being honest. Frank drove down the long road. “Okay, left up here. Now left again. Keep going straight.” Frank started down a dirt road. “Look.” Gerard pointed. His finger lead to large open field. “There's usually more flowers in the spring.” He shrugged.

Frank pulled up to a spot he thought looked nice and ran around the car to open the door for Gerard. He blushed as he stepped out of the car and onto the grass.

“It's really nice out here, Gee.” Frank walked a little further and planted himself in the grass.

“Yeah.” He agreed. Emptying the bag of wrapped food out onto the ground. They both pulled food out and started eating right away. Frank kicked his shoes off and peeled off his socks, digging his toes into the soft ground. “Are those my shoes?”

“Yeah,” Frank smiled. “I think they're really nice and they also comfy.”

Gerard noticed how fast he was eating and started to hyper focus on each bite, wanting to really savor it. Even though he'd eaten there many times before, the food was extra tasty today. Unlike him, Frank pretty much _inhaled_ his food, not taking a second thought on tasting it. He just needed something to fill up his stomach so he could get past the grip of hunger that was adding more discomfort to his upper body.

After Frank's food was gone he outstretched his legs and propped himself up on his elbows, watching the sky as the majority of stars had just finished coming out and the sky lit up by the moon. Gerard finished and threw his balled up wrapper into the bag and laid down on his stomach, letting his face rest in the grass and dirt.

“Do you think I'm like, handsome or whatever?” Frank cleared his throat.

“What?” Gerard asked. He heard the question, but was surprised by it.

“Dumb, I know. Never mind.” Frank pulled blades of grass out of the dirt.

Gerard laid down on his back and closed his eyes, letting the silence sink in for too long. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?” Frank pushed his fingers into the cool soil.

“You know what.” He scoffed.

“No I don't.” Frank teased.

Gerard sat up onto his knees and crawled over to Frank and sat behind him. He pushed the back of his arms out from under him and Frank fell onto his back. Gerard hovered his head over Frank's face as he groaned.

“Yes you do.” Gerard held Frank's warm cheeks in his cold hands.

“Yeah I do.” Frank giggled. “But I want to hear you say it.” Gerard laid on his stomach and placed the flat bottom of his chin on Frank's forehead.

“Frank Iero,” He could feel his warm breath traveling against the bridge of his nose. “I think you are the most beautiful, pretty, handsome, cute person I've ever seen.”

“You're lying!” Frank reached back and grabbed Gerard's shoulders.

“I'm not! Cross my heart.” Gerard drew an _X_ shape with his finger over his heart.

“I don't believe you.” Frank complained.

Gerard thought for a second, thinking of what to say to convince Frank he wasn't lying, but drew a blank. “Mm,” he felt uneasy. Nonetheless, he scooted his his body up to level his lips with Frank's upside down ones.

He pushed his lips down onto Frank's softly. Frank didn't move for a second, he stayed still and that made Gerard's heart jump more, nervous he'd made the wrong move. Frank started to push his lips up against Gerard, relaxing him a little bit. Frank pushed his hands up against Gerard's chest to get him off his face. He sat up on his legs and Frank practically tackled him. Gerard lay with his legs spread open and Frank on his chest, one of his legs between Gerard's and the other outside. Their lips met harshly now that Frank was in control. He pushed with too much force than he'd like, but he went with it. Gerard opened his mouth and Frank intertwined their lips. He sucked on Gerard's bottom lip, feeling his breath hitch in his mouth. Gerard's tongue found its way into Frank's mouth and Frank let him take control.

Gerard seemed to know just what to do with his tongue, licking Frank's own tongue and licking the insides of his lips while maintaining perfect kisses. Gerard led Frank's tongue into his own mouth and sucked on it. Frank let his tongue lay in Gerard's mouth, thoroughly enjoying the pressure on it. Frank started to whine from how good his mouth felt against his and Gerard started to smile. He let go of Frank's tongue and let his head fall back and Frank immediately started to attack his neck. He found a comfortable spot underneath his jaw and started sucking and biting, needing to leave his mark. He felt Gerard's stomach tense under him, but no sound but heavy breath escaped him.

He wanted to make him moan.

Frank firmly placed his hands down on either side of Gerard's torso and pushed his body up, causing his thigh to gently press against Gerard's groin, no noise though. Frank pushed his fingers of one hand through the locks of dark hair and gripped the back of his head, pulling his face into Frank's, giving him complete control of him. He kissed down Gerard's face to the start of his shirt on his neck. He kissed underneath his eye, down his cheek, on his mouth, down his chin, across his neck, and down to the start of his chest. He butterfly kissed Gerard's neck, trying to find a spot that made him tick. He kissed a small distance left from Gerard's Adam's apple and felt his hips flinch a small bit.

He traced a heart shape with the tip of his tongue and kissed in the middle of it. The hard swallow he felt Gerard do under his mouth was the confirmation Frank needed to know he was in the right spot. He laid his tongue flat on the area, letting his spit get it wet so the cold air would contrast against the warm. He blew air on the wet spot and Gerard's eyelids fluttered. Still no sound. He started to open mouth kiss the piece of skin and run his teeth softly on it. Gerard's hips moved to the side and Frank assumed that meant he liked the teeth. He sucked soft and slow at first, but eventually built up to sucking hard, keeping his mouth attached to his neck like a magnet. He held skin between his teeth and let it slide out from between his jaw. Gerard let out a long, slow, soft moan and Frank smiled against his neck, getting what he wanted.

“Let's go home?” Frank kissed Gerard's chin.

“Yeah.” Gerard stood up. He got in the passenger's seat, still feeling way too stoned to drive, but he somehow knew Frank would do just fine.

“You're quiet.” Frank said once the car was started.

Gerard laughed. “You moaned and whined the whole time.”

“You don't like that?” Frank teased.

“No, I loved it!” Gerard turned the dial for the heater. “I'm not very vocal unless I'm _made_ vocal.” He shrugged.

“Turn right here?” He pointed.

“Yeah.”

“Well then,” Frank took a hand off the wheel and laid it on Gerard's arm. “Guess I'm gonna have to make you vocal.” Gerard laughed at him. “I'm trying to be sexy! Is it not working?” Frank furrowed his brow.

Gerard shook his hand in the air, brushing off Frank's question. “Let's get home so we can start getting you sober.”

“Ugh,” He groaned. “Let's get _you_ sober. I saw you swaying when you were walking.”

“Frank,” Gerard warned. “Are you going to take this seriously?”

“I will. I swear! I really want to get sober. I don't need happiness from a needle when I can get it from you.” Frank pulled into the parking space.

"That was so corny." Gerard shook his head and stepped out of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-)))))))) thanks for reading my story it means a ton


	7. Seven

Not a moment after Frank’s eyes flicked open into consciousness, he was thinking about heroin. Nearly already desperate for it. It wasn’t clear in his head yet, but he imagined he must’ve dreamed about it for the want to already be this strong. He stared at the ceiling as he began to feel extremely frustrated with his own thoughts.

“Shut up, shut up, shut the _fuck_ up.” He hissed at himself.

He pulled the blanket off his body and began towards the bathroom, but stopped between the bed and the door. It was very early morning and drug dealers were now only starting to head home after long nights, he could slip out, shoot up, and slip back in undetected. No one would ever have to know, especially Gerard. The realization that the boy lying in the bed with hands folded between his head and his pillow trusted Frank enough to care for him in his own home made him feel like a guilty piece of shit and he trudged to the sink, becoming increasingly annoyed with himself. He squeezed toothpaste out of the tube and shoved it into his mouth, he scrubbed his tongue, like the taste drugs could be removed from his palette with a little extra effort. Under the warm jets of the shower he scrubbed his body raw, scraping scabs from track marks off his arm, as if once they were gone, so would the want to make more marks be. Walking past the mirror to exit the bathroom felt incredibly intrusive this early morning, he kept his eyes averted as he passed his reflection.

His feet felt like cinder blocks as he dragged them across the cold floor into the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered before spitting out hot coffee into the pot and he leaned against the counter, a dull ache starting to form itself in his temple. Fungus ran to him and rubbed herself on his legs. He assumed she could sense he needed the extra support at the moment. He picked her up and held her over his shoulder like someone would lay a baby on their shoulder. Fur stuck to his hand and his sweater as he pet her, but he didn’t really mind. She pulled herself over his shoulder and hopped off him, but stayed close, watching him with the only eye she had. He opened a banana and took nibbles out of it, his stomach feeling like it was swishing around in his body from nerves. He decided if he laid in bed long enough, he could just sleep a lot of the day away. That was his game plan, it was now decided. Sleep until he's sober, but now, coffee. Of course, watching the sunrise while drinking coffee.

Something about being this cliche was mostly annoying Frank and going against every fiber in his being that he’d stitched together, but it was also so fulfilling in the strangest way. He wasn’t doing anything he would feel ashamed while sharing with his mom, but it was making him feel so _good_. Normality was something Frank wanted to rebel against. Living the cliche life like his parents live scared him to death. Being dressed and drinking coffee before the sunrise like his mother, instead of sleeping until noon and drinking a forty before sunset felt _wrong_ in his mind. But now that he was actually _doing it,_ he didn’t feel so bad about it. Becoming his mother didn’t scare him anymore and he didn’t want to sprint away from that possibility of living a safe, cozy life.

Heavy legs underneath him carried him to the bed and he slipped silently under the covers, careful not to stir awake the body next to him. Fungus made herself comfortable on the end of the bed, her eyes closed, but Frank knew she was here to watch him. He figured all the caffeine he’d just downed would cause trouble to fall asleep, but once his head pressed against the pillow he was out.

 _A stiff mattress pressed into his spine and he recognized the feeling as his own bed, in his own room. At_ home _. The aroma of dinner that was always there met his nose, but the atmosphere around him felt stale, he thought nothing of it, finding most of his childhood days feeling stale and as if they were in a standstill. He climbed out of bed and straightened out the sheets, something he was accustomed to. The posters scattered along the wall and the mess spread across his carpeted floor assured him that this was in fact, his own room. He felt his heart jump, unable to pull memories from where he was supposed to be, but he felt this isn’t where he should be. The thoughts were dismissed once he realized things were back to normal. As normal as home could get. He cracked his bedroom door open and looked out into the hallway, seeing no one. He continued down the hall towards his parents room._

_“Ma?” The door to her and his father's room creaked all the way he pushed it open. It was spotless, empty of bodies, but so, so dusty._

_He started towards the kitchen, an eerie feeling crawling up on his body, weighing him down like a ton of bricks. He walked straight through the living room, not looking up once, knowing if he made eye contact with his dad, the man would take it as an invitation to start an argument. Cool tile of the kitchen floor pressed against the socked soles of his feet and looked up to see his mother hovered over a steaming pot on the stove, humming to herself as she stirred._

_“Uh, hey ma.” He set his hands on her shoulders. She didn't respond to his voice or touch. “What are you making? Smells good.” The small woman turned and walked to the fridge. She dug around and gathered a few ingredients._

_“Mom?” He poked her arm. No response. “Ma,” he raised his voice. She looked right into his eyes, but turned back into the pot as if she saw nothing._

_“Mom, why won’t you talk to me? Was it something I said? I’m sorry I poked you.” Frank felt like he was about to cry. “I'm sorry I did what I did but I_ exist _!” He plead to her. “A person doesn’t deserve to be treated invisible like this.”_

_She turned around and walked past him to the spice cabinet, digging for a bit before settling on a few small containers. On her way back to the stove she dropped a spice and Frank bent down to pick it up for her, but she beat him to it and got it herself. A lump began to manifest in his throat and he felt abandoned to a degree._

_Now, desperate for any kind of attention, he moved back into the living room, purposely making eye contact with his father. The oblivious man seemed to look right through Frank unlike his mother who looked_ at _him. He focused his gaze back onto the low volume TV._

_“Hey dad?” Frank stood next to him. He didn't respond. “Pops? Hello? Anyone home?” He waved a hand in front of his face. He started to get really worked up now, feeling the frustration of being ignored build up inside his body and push against his skin._

_“You guys think the silent treatment is_ so _fucking funny, huh?! It's not! Fucking answer me, asshole!” He rammed into his dad, but passed right through his body, landing on the other end of the couch. He watched in amazement as his father shivered, not even realizing he was there._

_“Lin?” Frank Sr. spoke finally. “It's chilly in here.”_

_“Well grab a blanket, I don't know what to tell ya’. Dinner's almost done anyway.” Frank melted in the seat hearing her cream voice._

_“Am I dead?” Frank asked in the air. “I'm fucking dead and I'm stuck here!” He slammed his fist into the armrest on the couch, feeling the impact, but the couch couldn't say the same, he didn't even move the fabric. “Someone help me!” He screamed as loud as he could, his father not reacting at all next to him._

_Frank went into the bathroom and dropped his head into the sink, letting cold water run on the top of his head and drip down onto his face. Water dripped and streamed down his skin, giving form to his being, he couldn’t be a ghost, he couldn’t be dead. Ghosts don’t have a physical form. He counted down from one hundred and then left the bathroom._

_His father still sat on the couch, but now he was only a skeleton, his clothes piled loosely on his bare bones. Frank involuntary dropped onto his knees and made a wailing noise that pulled itself raggedly out of his throat. He crawled over to his father's remains and reached his hand out, unable to touch him since his skin passed right through the bones. Frank pulled himself up and jogged into the kitchen._

_“Ma!” He found her in the same state, her bones laid in the middle of her kitchen. “No! Ma!” He held the bones in his lap, able to make physical contact with her, thankfully. He started to frantically cry streams of tears, unable to breathe properly. “Mama you're nothin’ but a pile of bones!” His hands shook uncontrollably, ghosting themselves above her skull. “Mama no.” He cried with his mouth hanging open, drool accumulated on his bottom lip and threatened to drip onto his clothes._

_“Baby.” His mom’s voice, only above a whisper, rang behind him._

_His mouth closed and he laid the bones down carefully, his tears held in his eyes instead of falling right away. When he turned around he saw his small mother standing behind him, looking like she was glowing. She squatted down on the opposite side of the kitchen where she stood and Frank quickly crawled over to her as fast as he could. Her arms engulfed him and she held his frail frame tight. The fragrance of her perfume filled his head and he held onto her tighter._

_“Mama, am I dead?” He asked into her shoulder._

_She pushed his hair out of his face and looked into his eyes. Her own face bunched up with concern and tears collected on her waterline. “Oh, baby.” She cried and held him closer._

_“Ma?” Frank asked, feeling somehow more scared now that she had left his question unanswered._

-

Frank woke up to Gerard shaking him by the shoulder. He didn't open his eyes at first, hoping if he fell asleep soon enough, he'd be able to get tossed back into the dream he was just pulled from. But Gerard wasn't letting that happen.

“Hm? What?” Frank slurred with his eyes still closed.

“It's almost 4. I figured I should wake you up now.” Gerard spoke softly to him, holding his head.

“I wanna go see my mom.” Frank looked into Gerard's eyes.

“Yeah, okay. When?” Gerard wiped the damp hair off Frank's sweaty forehead and he nodded. “Wanna get up or no?”

"After I get sober, I wanna see her." Frank nodded again and sat up. He noticed Fungus was still on the foot of the bed, her eye on Frank. “She been there all day?” He scooted off the mattress, still feeling incredibly groggy.

“Yeah, she's been watching you.” Gerard smiled.

Once Frank stood up, he noticed the dull pain in his temple spread through his whole skull and a pain in his stomach manifested. It didn't feel like hunger, but it fucking hurt just as bad. He also started to notice that he was sweaty all over and had a runny nose.

“Gee, I don't feel too good.” He sat down on the cold hardwood floor, starting to feel a bit too faint to keep walking.

Gerard knelt in front of him. “What's wrong?” He pet his head and Frank leaned into the touch to ground himself.

“Just hurts. Feels so uncomfortable.” Frank rubbed at his face hard. “I feel so sick, like I’m getting the flu or something.”

“Come lay on the couch. You can watch TV and eat something to get your mind off it.” He stood up and held a hand out for Frank.

He gripped it and Gerard pulled him up into a standing position. He had Frank swing one arm over his shoulder so he could support him while he walked across the floor. Frank sat on the couch, looking miserable as he flicked through the channels. He grimaced and held his hands over his eyes. Gerard knew it was because of the sunlight from the open curtains and he made sure the thick, dark blue curtains were closed tight, the ends overlapping so no light seeped through. He sat on the floor next to the couch to give frank some space, but Frank didn't like that idea.

“Sit with me?” He asked, patting the cushion.

“How do you want to sit?”

“Uh, here.” Frank stood up, letting Gerard sit down. “Lay with your legs straight and open.” Frank laid on Gerard, his smaller frame fitting perfectly on top of his and his legs fit between Gerard's middle. “You okay like this?”

“Yeah, are you comfortable? I am.” Gerard laid a hand on Frank’s head.

“Yes.” Frank lied and attempted to get comfortable, but he just wanted to get up. Being on Gerard he was _definitely_ comfortable there, but the feeling of restlessness pierced him. He fought against the urge and glues his eyes to the woman selling a vacuum on the screen. He closed his eyes, needing to fall asleep again before he started to cry from the constant discomfort he was feeling being in his skin.

After Gerard eventually fell asleep, Frank sat up on the end of the couch where Gerard's feet were. He put them in his lap as he sat normally, he bit at his nails and bounced his leg at the same time. He couldn't stay still, but his stomach hurt so bad that he didn't want to get up to do anything. Frank told himself it would be better in a day or two and he would feel way better once he was completely sober and off heroin. He pressed himself against the bottom half Gerard's warm body as he laid back down and forced himself to fall asleep again.

-

Once Frank awoke again after another disturbing dream, he noticed he was lying on a blanket on the floor with another blanket draped over his body and a pillow under his head. He pushed himself up and saw that he had sweat through the blanket and assumed the floor under him would be soaked with sweat. The living room was still dark, but he couldn't tell if it was night or if the curtains were just doing their job perfectly.

“Hi.” Gerard squatted down to wipe Frank's face with a dry towel. He moved down to his sweaty neck. “It's ten.”

“At night?” Frank guessed.

“No. You slept through the night. It's ten AM. Day two.” Gerard smiled. “You're gonna make it, Frank. You're doing really good.” He smoothed down his sweaty hair.

“I feel like a pile of shit.” Frank sneezed. “Can you run the tub?” He asked Gerard sweetly. “But cold water? It feels so hot.”

“Yeah, come on.” Gerard waved him to come to the bathroom and Frank carefully pushed himself off the floor and limped into the bathroom.

Feeling cold tile against his hot body felt like heaven and listening to the water start to fill up with cool water sounded like music. Gerard had him sit up and drink some water, since he hadn't in such a long time and he was sweating like a pig. He didn't realize how thirsty he was until he tasted the water on his tongue. Frank chugged the whole glass of cool water and felt it in his stomach, not wanting to settle. The tart taste came up into his throat and filled it. Knowing he was about to throw up, he launched himself over to the toilet and hung his head down, letting water spray out of his body in the form of immediate vomit. His body was trembling and he held his hands together tight, trying to decrease it.

“C’mon.” Gerard pulled Frank across the floor away from the toilet towards the tub after the puking had subsided into dry heaving.

He pulled Frank's sweater up and he lifted his arms up, allowing him to pull it up over his head. Gerard pulled on the waistband of Frank's loose pajama pants and he managed to gather up the strength to lift his bottom half up to let him pull his pants off his legs.

“Frank?” Gerard caressed his face. “Can you handle getting into the tub alone? I wanna grab you something to eat while you cool off.” He made his voice soft.

“Yeah, I can do it.” Frank spoke slow. He lifted himself up onto the side of the tub and sat on it. He pulled his socks off and pushed his boxers down into a pile around his ankles. Slow and steady, he lowered himself into the bath.

Cool bathwater felt amazing against his feverish skin to say the least. He sighed laid his head against the back of the tub, the overall coolness of the whole situation was making Frank feel a bit less nauseous and hot. Gerard came back in and sat a plate of crackers on the ledge of the bath. He looked up at Frank every now and then, his sketchbook in hand to entertain himself. Frank felt like he was going to fall asleep soon from how nice it felt in the bath and he didn't mind. 

-

Frank sat with his legs stretched out and his back against the couch, staring at the TV, but was completely unable from focusing on anything other than the constant discomfort he was feeling purely from existing without heroin in his body. The shaking had turned into tremors he couldn't stop. Gerard watched him as he shook his leg and made occasional whining sounds, and evidently could not sit still. He would shift his body every two seconds it seemed. He laid down, but sat right back up almost immediately, only to slightly rock back and forth the whole time, then sat on the couch, back down on the floor, and whined, almost crying because he was so uncomfortable. The cycle repeated, Frank paced around the room, then sat in various places, never feeling satisfied.

“Gerard?” Frank turned to look him in the eye. Sweat glued his hair to frame his face and his eyes were bloodshot, the purple starting to stain under his sickly eyes almost matched the bruise on his cheek. “Do you think I can go out for a while? I just need some fresh air. It's too fucking stuffy in here.”

“Then I'll open a window. You can't leave alone. Your moods are all over the place and I don't want you to get hurt.” He wasn't letting him go anywhere.

“I want to leave.” Frank stated, his tone not coming out as harsh as he intended, instead it landed feebly in the air.

“To do what?” Gerard spoke casually, knowing exactly what he'd do if he left the apartment alone.

“Don't know.” Frank crossed his arms. “Just wanna leave.” He sounded like a child.

“If you leave and you get high, you're going to feel so much worse. Stay put and let this craving pass. _Please_.” Gerard knew if Frank tried to leave alone, he could easily detain him, given that Frank was dangerously weak right now due to his situation. Though it seemed wrong now, in the long run it would be the right thing to do to keep him cooped up until he was sober, as Gerard saw it.

“Let me leave!” Frank raised his voice.

“The door is right there.” Gerard faked nonchalance. “If you go out and shoot up, everything you've been working so hard for these past days will be erased.”

Frank shot up off the floor. “I don't give a fuck!” He made his way towards the door. “Who even fucking cares about me anymore.”

Gerard pounced at him, launching himself off the couch. Frank heard his fast footsteps behind him and he attempted to run to the door. He turned the lock on the door handle and pulled it open, but the chain lock was still connected and the door stopped abruptly. It wouldn't open enough for him to escape. Gerard gripped Frank's arm and pulled him backwards, but he pushed against him trying to get away. He was startled by the strength Frank actually possessed. Nonetheless, it was his mission to keep Frank _in_ the apartment. He took the arm he still was digging his fingers into and pushed Frank against the wall next to the door. Simultaneously he pushed the door shut with this foot. He held Frank down with his forearm pushed into the top of his chest, just under where his collarbones resided and pushed his thigh into his stomach to keep him pinned.

“I do. I fucking care.” Gerard growled into his face, breathing hard.

“Lemme go.” Frank whispered, his head fell back against the wall and his eyes closed. Pain and frustration was obvious on his face.

“You're not leaving like this. I know you're trying to go get high and I won't let you!” Gerard spoke with his voice low at first, but the anger and frustration came through his gritted teeth.

“Let me fucking go! What does it matter to you what I do?” Frank gripped one hand on Gerard's wrist and his other on his elbow. “You don't care about me. What am I to you? A fucking charity case? Will fucking fixing me make you feel better about yourself or something? No one but me has every cared about me or given me a second fucking thought.” He started to cry, his bottom lip trembling.

Gerard started to talk quieter. “If I didn't care about you, would I really go through all this effort to get you sober?”

“My skins too tight.” He dropped the argument and kept on fidgeting underneath Gerard's arm  He let him go and Frank started to furiously wipe at his eyes. “Wanna take it off. I hate it!” He pulled his shirt off. “I feel like shit and I wanna be sober already!” His voice was shaking, but he sounded so angry. “Let me _leave!_!”

“Frank,” Gerard started.

“It hurts!” His eyes met Gerard's once again. They were pooling with tears. “God! Fucking dammit, it _hurts_ so much _everywhere.”_ The tears began to drip out of his eyes again even though he'd just stopped crying a minute ago. “Fix it! I don’t know what to do!” He screamed and tears started to fall. “I’m sorry, Gee.” He held his face in his hands and sank down the wall, sniffling.

“Oh, pumpkin.” Gerard lifted Frank up in his arms and laid him on the couch, allowing him to cry into something softer than the hardwood floor. He sat down on the floor in front of the couch, looking at Frank who had buried his face in the couch cushion already. “I'm here, okay? It's going to hurt for now, but I promise once this wave passes, it'll be so much better.” Frank was sniffling, making his whole body flinch with every inhale and he was shaking hard while keeping his death grip on Gerard's forearm.

“H-hurts so b- _bad_.” He mumbled. “Fuck you, Gerard!” He lifted his face up off the couch to look at him. His skin was flushed red on the cheeks and the area around his eyes were starting to turn a darker shade of the red that previously covered the whites of his eyes. Tears stained down his cheeks. “You're fucking doing this to me. Why'd you even take me in? Huh? You should've let me die out in the fucking street!” Frank slapped the cushion. “Would've been less painful than what you're doing to me now!” Despite the hateful things Frank was saying to him, he pulled Gerard's arm closer to his body.

Gerard sighed and scooted up onto the couch to get closer so he would be able to cradle Frank's hot, damp head in his lap. He had no words to combat what Frank was spouting, so he listened to Frank growl and rant about how _Gerard_ was the one _doing this to_ Frank. All he could do for now was hope for the following days to pass by faster than they needed to so Frank's suffering could come to a sprinting end.

Frank couldn't form words anymore now that the nausea, dizziness, and aching of his body was too much to bear while forming coherent words. Now he laid with his heavy head in Gerard's lap, murmuring grunts and groans, never making out a clear single word. Tears stopped falling at this point, but they had already soaked through the denim of Gerard's jeans, making his legs uncomfortable. Now with the intense craving beginning to fall a bit, Frank thought about being able to focus on living life and following his passion rather than constantly worrying about if he's going to be able to get his hands on heroin soon. But god damn did heroin sound delicious right now. Luckily for him, he was too weak and tired to go out and buy some, so he continue to lay there and cry and drool over some feel good drug.

-

Gerard's hopes and prayers for the next days to go quickly and smoothly went completely ignored. Things actually went in the complete opposite way he was hoping they would and Gerard decided whoever was in charge of this course of actions had a vendetta against him. Frank's ridiculous mood swings were something _easy_ to handle at this point. Listening to Frank scream about how much he wanted to go out and shoot up, describing it in graphic detail _just_ so he could get under Gerard's skin was _easy._ Watching Frank gush about how appreciative he is of Gerard for hours on end only to have the conversation snap into a rant about how much he hates him in the same breath was a fucking cakewalk. Frank crying hard, ridiculously hard, hard crying you couldn't even imagine, so hard he wouldn't be able to pick his own body up off the floor for hours, his face would be left raw, he'd swallow and choke on a sea of tears, and have incredible eye aches all because he missed home was _so_ much easier to deal with than watching the physical toll he was going through.

Frank spent most of his time that he was awake either crying, complaining, or being furious with someone. Now all that was over as he lay on the floor of the shower, his legs folded in half underneath him and his back hunched down sandwiched on his legs, looking completely lifeless. The water came down and hit Frank's back, and he started to cry, never feeling water hit his skin that hard before because he was _that_ sensitive to touch at the moment. Gerard’s time nowadays was spent listening to Frank retch violently in the bathroom behind a locked door because he was too ashamed to be seen in his condition, and dealing with his awful emotional tolls that went hand in hand with the physical problems. He had been plagued by constant bouts of nausea since he ended his heroin streak. When Gerard was allowed to be in the bathroom with him, all he could do was rub his back and help him drink water after, when all he wanted to be able to put an end to this.

Frank would decline lying with him, ashamed of his constant sweating, runny nose, and trembling. He laid on the bed, in a fetal position, his teeth chattering and his body shivering as he tore his clothes off from being too hot. Gerard would change the sheets often because of the sweat, but it was counterproductive. By the time the load of sheets was finished drying, Frank would have sweated through another set. He'd made him sip water often, scared of him getting dehydrated. And often times, the water would get thrown up into the bucket he had sat next to the bed.

-

Frank hunched over and his trembling hands white knuckled onto the now familiar sides of the cold, porcelain toilet bowl and he heaved into it evilly. The pain from pulling the contents out of his empty belly felt like something sinister was in his stomach, trying to crawl up and out through his mouth, but all that came out was burning yellow bile. He spit the taste out of his mouth and reached to flush. His weak arm could barely make it and he nearly gave up. He finally slumped backward and fell onto his back on the cold, tile floor and shivered. He flipped over onto his side and dragged his knees up towards his chest so he was lying in a fetal position. Sweat drenched his body and could feel that his body temperature was hotter than normal, but he felt like he was freezing.

“G-Gerard!” He said hoarsely. “Gerard!” He screamed, finally finding his voice.

“What's wrong?” He came in from the bedroom.

“N-nothing. Just w-wanted to see you.” Frank attempted to smile but he couldn't tell if he was doing it or not.

“God,” Gerard whispered, horrified seeing Frank in that awful state.

“Do I l-look that b-bad?” Frank lifted his head and chuckled.

“You look sick, pumpkin. Are you thirsty?” Gerard said sadly and put a hand on Frank's head. His hair was always damp with sweat and his head felt like it was burning up.

“Oh, yeah.” He tried to nod, but again couldn't tell if he was actually doing it.

Where he laid, he left an imprint of his body on the floor in sweat that soaked through his clothes and made them damp. Yet he was shivering like he was freezing. His nose was running onto his cheeks. The toilet was full of stomach bile almost all the time and every time Frank spoke, the tart stench filled the room more. His face was a very sickly, pale shade, but around his eyes was a mix of reds and light purples. The often episodes of intense crying and the awful lack of sleep he was getting were the main suspects. The veins showed through his thin looking skin along his jawline. He looked like he was made of porcelain, like if you dropped him, or even held him too hard, he would shatter into your hands. His lips were nearly if not exactly the same color as the rest of his skin, making him look awfully sick.

Frank sipped on the water that was in a plastic cup, Gerard didn’t trust that Frank’s hands would be able to hold a glass cup and not drop it. The last thing Frank needed right now was to get cut up by glass, his skin felt weak, like it would cut easy too.  He had trouble swallowing, both because his throat was raw from the often emptying of his stomach so often and because he felt so sick that anything in his stomach felt like an intruder.

Gerard noticed Frank was breathing heavily, but there was no reason to be out of breath. He placed two of his fingers on the place where Frank's neck met his jaw and felt his pulse. His heart was going really fast and Gerard wondered if he should call an ambulance or someone to help him with something like this. Struggling through this situation with Frank seemed never ending. More and more problems kept arising whether they be physical, emotional, or mental, they were all affecting both Gerard and Frank in ways they weren't sure if they'd be able to handle alone. It was the fourth day of this and Frank was still feeling awful. Scarier things than just the sweating, shaking, vomiting, stomach pain, mood swings, and crying started to happen. He was having muscle spasms, the muscles in his hands and face would just _twitch_ , his heart was beating too fast, and he could barely stomach water. Neither of them were sure what to do in a situation where he got this bad, but they were already so far in and there was absolutely no turning back.

-

Gerard laid on the couch, accidentally drifting away while watching night time infomercials and waiting for Frank to finish puking his guts out. His name being called was what happened to drag him out of his dreams. He opened his sensitive eyes and listened closer, feeling panic start to rise when he realized Frank was calling him in a weak voice. He waded through the dark room and clicked the bedroom light on, seeing Frank stood up for the first time in a while. He leaned his body quickly onto the mattress once the light hit him.

“You okay?” Gerard shielded his eyes from the bright light.

“Turn that off? My head.” Frank had his hands over his eyes. Gerard clicked it back off. “Can you help me? I really just wanna shower. And I’m starting to feel more like a person.” Frank rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gerard helped Frank into the bathroom where he left the light off, cautious of the poor boy’s needs. He turned the shower knob to a lukewarm setting and left Frank to undress and wash himself. “While you’re in there,” He spoke close to Frank's ear, not wanting to yell over the water at him. “I’m just gonna start cleaning the bathroom a bit.”

“Okay,” Frank nodded, but stopped once his brain started to ache.

He sighed at the feeling of being able to take his shirt all the way off and not have it continue to cling at the sweat covering his arms. Sweat still continued to come out, but in amazingly smaller amounts and in more normal places instead of falling from every pore on his face and body. He leaned his body on the bathroom counter in his boxers and brushed his teeth slowly, feeling the detox calming its effect in his body. Frank had to sit down in the tub while the shower ran because he still had really little energy, but the amount of time he managed to stand was really impressive. He smelled cleaning products that Gerard was spreading over the floor of the bathroom and bedroom. It was so refreshing to inhale those instead of smelling his own body odor and bile.

Frank sat on the shower floor, lathering soap on his chest, sighing at the feeling of being able to scrape off the grime from the past few days. Gerard also felt at peace knowing once he scrubbed the tiles of the bathroom floor clean, Frank wouldn't be laying on them, sweating, crying, and puking anymore.

“Gee?” Frank's voice quivered, he didn't mean for it to, but he had to speak loud over the shower and his voice wasn't ready.

“Yeah, pumpkin?” He sprayed more bleach onto the inside of the toilet bowl.

“What you said about going to see my parents? Did you mean it? That'd we'd really go?” He chewed on his nail.

“Of course, I don't see why not? After all, it _is_ Christmas and I'm sure they'll be ecstatic to see you after so long.” Gerard laughed. 

Frank smiled. “Oh, I gotta go out and buy them gifts. I'd really love to get my Ma something real nice after all the shit I put her though all this time.” He sighed, upset with his own actions. "Are you gonna see your family."

"Yeah, I am." He smiled. "It's just my mom and my brother this year so like I said before, it won't be anything extravagant. But it will be nice just to see them, you know?" 

"I hope so." Frank spoke low to himself. "Can I meet your family?" Frank raised his voice again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read my story it means a ton to me :-) thank u ssssm


	8. Eight

“Mom!” Gerard squeezed the woman against his body. “I’m finally finished with all my business, so I thought I’d come for Christmas, luckily, only two days late.” He smiled wide.

“Well good morning! Lovely to see you, darling.” She spoke like silk. “Who’s this? Oh, he’s a cute one!” She pinched Frank’s cheeks and he couldn’t help but smile, missing the home feeling of that.

“Hi, I’m Frank. Gerard’s friend.” He stuck his hand out, but she dismissed the shake and kissed him on the cheek. Frank could feel the lightweight red lipstick that was now pressed into the pores of his face.

“I’m Donna. My, you’re so thin!” She gasped looking at his torso. Her hands pressed against his rib cage, accentuating his thin body. “The bulk of your sweater almost had me fooled. Come eat!” She gestured for the boys to follow her.

There was more food left over from the Way family than Frank had ever seen in one place. His own mother liked to cook smallish meals on holidays, just enough for them to eat, unlike the feasts cooked for holidays he'd seen in movies, which he assumed were complete fiction, never experiencing such a profligate meal himself. Well, that was until now. Donna took it into her own hands to collect food on a plate for Frank. She put enough food on it to feed Frank for a week.

“Sorry it’s not fresh, but that’s Gerard’s fault.” She winked at him.

“Oh, it's mine too, ma’am. I had some of my own things to take care of and Gerard wanted to bring me since I don’t have much of a family right now.” Frank overshared. He felt his face go pink. “Uh, sorry.”

“Poor baby,” Donna watched Frank pick at the food on his plate. “What happened to your family, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I ran away. I’m an adult now so it’s okay. Now it counts as _leaving_ home.” Frank said with a mouth full of potatoes. “This is delicious, Ms. Way.”

“Oh thank you, honey.” She felt flattered. “ But, dear, were you homeless?” She eyed him, getting worked up about Frank’s safety even though he was sat right in front of her.

“For a few months. I ran away last...” Frank squinted his eyes, trying to recall memories. “Late January early February? I think. And just stayed at some shelters since I was technically still a child. But those places suck, I got so much shit stolen from me, which sucked. So I just floated around for a while, until Gerard took me in about two months ago.” Frank shared with Donna, feeling comfortable in the presence of such a motherly figure.

“Yeah,” Gerard spoke muffled through the food packed in his mouth. He swallowed before he began again. “He didn’t want to stay for some dumb reason, it took about a week of convincing that he wouldn’t be able to survive the winter for him to spend the night.”

“Oh goodness, dear! You've been alone almost a year!” Donna reached across the table and laid her hand on Frank’s. “At least you’re safe now. My Gerard’s always had such a big heart.”

“He sure does.” Frank was struggling to finish the plate, but felt it was necessary to please Donna.”Gerard agreed to taking me to see my family later. I bought my parents gifts.” He cut a piece of meat.

“That's nice! Are you nervous to see them?” She asked, obviously interested.

“I'm terrified. I’m scared they’ll just slam the door in my face.” Frank bounced his leg, feeling his body start to fill with nerves.

“I doubt that will happen,” She attempted to console him. “ _But_ if it goes wrong, you can come back here and have coffee with me.”

Frank laughed. “If things go south, I'm gonna have to take you up on that offer.”

“Who’s this?” A boy who was about as thin as Frank, but taller and dressed in baggy pajamas made his way to the coffee maker.

“Hi, I’m Frank.” He introduced himself for the second time today after swallowing.

“I’m Mikey.” He nodded in his direction.

“This poor boy was homeless for months! Living out on the dirty streets! Poor baby!” Donna exclaimed, being extra dramatic. Frank thought she should do theater. “Completely alone as a child! Then your brother took him in.”

“Oh yeah?” Mikey looked at Frank, seeing if it was true. He ignored his mother's exaggerations. Frank nodded. “What’s that like?”

“It's alright for living on the streets,” Frank cocked his head. “Except when you come across other homeless people. You know, you get robbed and beaten up. Thankfully none of them ever stabbed me with their dirty knives.”

“Is that why your face is all fucked up? Homeless dudes?” Mikey pointed.

“Language.” Donna warned.

“Yeah, pretty much. I owed some guys money and I didn't have it so they kicked my ass.” Frank didn't manage to catch himself before he swore, but he wanted to respect her rules, so he made a mental note to watch it.

“Shit,” Mikey sat himself down in a stool. “Did you fight back? Get any good hits in there?”

“Man, I wish I could tell you I did.” Frank sighed. “But no, there were, I think, three guys that caught me off guard. If I did fight back they’d just hit me harder.”

“So you just laid there and took it?” He asked.

“Fuck no!” Frank shook his head, feeling ashamed the mental note didn’t help. “I ran away like a normal person would.”

Mikey laughed, impressing Gerard. His brother was pretty much a stone wall that took a great deal of time to break through to get the the gooey emotional center, but in just a few short minutes, Frank had broke through that wall and engaged with Mikey, joking about his ridiculous stories of surviving in the streets of New Jersey. He intently watched as Frank had a natural click with his family. Donna and Mikey virtually immediately both took a liking to him.

“Honey, what did you mean when you said you had your _own_ things to take care of?” Donna asked once a lull in conversation started to set. “Are you in school?”

“Oh, no. Not anymore. I graduated early from high school.”

“Then what?” She didn't want to drop it.

“Well, uh,” Frank sighed, not wanting to lie to her. "Not to be too bold and scare you, but what I meant was I was getting sober off of heroin. Hardest thing I ever did.” He shook his head, Frank hated lying and he felt comfortable oversharing with the whole Way family.

“Goodness! Heroin?!” Donna gasped, she looked horrified.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s behind me now, though. Never again.” Frank swore.

“Did Gerard do any of the heroin with you?” She gasped. “I'm going to end you, Gerard Arthur!”

“No, nothing like that, ma’am.” Frank kept his cool, though he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “The heroin was something I did without Gerard.”

“That’s right.” Gerard agreed. “I actually helped him off the drug, mom.”

“Is that so?” Donna lifted her eyebrows. “Well good for you, Gerard. You too, Frank, I’m very, very happy that you got off heroin.”

“Well,” Mikey lifted his half empty mug of coffee in the air. “To getting off heroin!”

Frank, Gerard, and a hesitant Donna all raised their drinks and clinked them together in the air above the table. .

“To getting off heroin.” The three said in almost unison.

-  


“Boys, it's getting late and starting to snow pretty bad. Maybe you should stay?” Donna suggested. “I’m nervous for you boys to drive home in weather like this.”

Gerard looked through the curtains, snow was starting to pile up pretty high. “Oh yeah. It's really coming down.” He got closer to Frank and spoke low so only he could hear him. “Do you want to stay? It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable here, we can go back home.”

“Yeah. I don't think it'll be a smart idea to drive back in weather like this, Gee. I mean we brought clothes for _my_ parents house anyway, why not just stay here until it clears up.” Frank shrugged. “It’s not like my parents are expecting me.” He laughed.

“Yeah mom. We’ll stay.” Gerard agreed after hearing Frank’s take on it.

“Awesome.” Mikey breathed. “Frank, wanna play these new games with me?” He held  up the stack of cases Gerard had gifted to him earlier.

“Yes! Dude, I love video games.” His voice faded out as he quickly followed Mikey down the hall and up the stairs into his room.

Frank was astonished at the amount of personality Mikey had cluttering all over his room. There were albums sprawled out in one corner, clothes decorated the whole floor, and a bass guitar sat on a stand by the wall next to where his bed was stuffed in the corner. The sheets lay lazily off the edge, looking comfortably slept in. Posters recklessly decorated the wall above his bed. They even hung loosely from the ceiling.

“You like it?” Mikey noticed Frank eyeing his bass guitar. “It's real old, but it still plays like a champ.”

“It's gorgeous. I had a guitar of my own, but,” Frank trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“But what?” Mikey pressed.

“But my dad locked my guitar up in the attic because he didn’t want me wasting time.” He rubbed his eyes. “Can’t stand the thought of her just rotting up there all alone.” He started to chew on his nails. “But yeah, I haven't played in forever.”

“Shit, that’s awful. Fucked up for an instrument to be left alone for so long. Maybe when you go to see him, you could take back home the guitar? I’m sure it's still good to go, just might need a little shining up?” Mikey attempted to lift his spirits.

“Yeah, if everything goes good, I think I’ll ask about it.” Frank grinned.

“Do you want to play mine? It's not a guitar but it's close.” He offered.

“Could I?” Frank's eyes looked bright and glassy.

“Yeah of course. Just keep the volume down? I broke my headphones for the amp and mom doesn't like it to be so loud late at night.”

“Of course, man.”

Frank sat cross legged on the floor with the bass in his lap, tuning it by ear while Mikey sat in front of the TV, starting to play the stack of games Gerard gifted to him. He decided it was good enough after turning the pegs for a short amount of time. The amp light flicked onto red and he felt his heart skip a beat. He plugged each end of the cord into the amp and the guitar. Frank turned the volume dial down to the first check and strummed one string, turning the dial to the perfect volume. He started playing a bass line from one of his favorite songs, knowing it by heart. Carrying it around the streets for so long felt so heavy, but now being able to spill it out on the four, thick strings felt better than anything. The whole night, he'd gone thinking about heroin, desperately pushing the thought down further into his head. Now not was he only far away from the thought of it, he now felt euphoric, feeling the strings press into the thick, calloused tips of his fingers. Notes flew out of the amp and he shut his eyes as he left his hands to mindlessly do the work as he just listened and played the other parts of the song in his head. He didn't even notice Gerard come into the room, but when he opened his eyes, the two brothers were sitting in front of the TV, controllers in their hands laughing and competing with each other.

“That was so good, dude.” Mikey spoke, breaking his eyes from the screen to glance at Frank. “I know that song, I think. Sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, dumb ass. It was scream by the Misfits. Right Frank?” Gerard looked over.

He laughed, feeling his heart fill with warmth. “Yeah, it was. You really knew that bass line?” He asked, astonished that they even knew what he was playing.

“I love the misfits.” Mikey stated. “I knew I knew that song once you started playing it. I just couldn't place the title.”

“Aw _fuck_!” Gerard threw his hands up.

You're dead! You suck!” Mikey started laughing.

“Wanna play, Frank?” Gerard offered.

“Maybe later. I'm good here for now.” He smiled, Gerard smiled back.

Frank continued to play another bass line his hands remembered on their own. He chewed on his bottom lip and kept his eyes closed, needing to focus more on this one. He heard the whole song playing in his head, and kept the bass matched up, he hummed the rhythm to keep himself aligned. Only a few notes in, Mikey started talking to him.

“Fuck! Hey, I love that song. It's um,” He scrunched up his face and started snapping his fingers, trying to jog his memory. “I know it. It's The Smiths.”

“Mhm.” Frank continued to play, his eyes remained closed.

“Oh! It's- fuck!” Gerard joined in trying to figure out the song. “I know it!”

“Ah! It's barbarism begins at home!” Mikey yelled out, smiling, proud of himself for being the one to figure it out.

“Yeah, that's it!” Gerard smiled, baring the lot of his small teeth.

“Love the smiths.” Mikey said while he turned back around to un pause the game and keep playing.

“They suck, dude.” Gerard laughed. “Morrissey sucks.”

“You suck.” Mikey grunted, attempting to kill Gerard in the game for his comment.

“Morrissey sucks more.” He went after his brother with a knife.

“Morrissey’s a whiner, but in the _right_ way.” Frank spoke over his bass notes.

“Yeah, he's right.” Mikey nodded.

-

Frank bit on the side of his tongue, focusing hard on getting past Mikey in the race on the game on the screen. Gerard had passed out hours ago and he laid snoring lightly on Mikey’s bed. Frank took his place next to Mikey to play games until they passed out themselves. Their eyes had been staring so long that they had started to ache and feel like they were drying out, but they were nowhere near done. He leaned over, trying to nudge Mikey to distract him and make him lose his place in the race. Mikey leaned out of reach and kept his focuses on keeping his car in front of Frank's.

“Gerard likes you.” Mikey stated in the silence.

“I hope so. We live together.” Frank leaned his body over to get his car to drift better in the game, even though he knew it made no sense to do so.

“No like, he has a crush on you.” Mikey laughed. Frank looked on the bed where Gerard laid on his side, his face hidden. “Don't worry, he's out.”

“You think he likes me that way?” Frank laughed, nervously.

“Oh yeah, just the way he looks at you. He's _always_ looking at you, dude.” Mikey shivered. “It's gross to watch my brother drool over someone. Do you like him too?”

“Oh, uh, I don't know.” Frank laughed and his cheeks felt hot.

“You do!” Mikey rose his voice.

“Shh! Don't wake him up!” Frank panicked, not really knowing why since the fact that they liked each other were pretty clear to _both_ of them.

“Don't worry, you should know by know he's a heavy sleeper.” Mikey brushed off his concern. “So you like him? You are gay, right?”

“Bi, actually.” Frank passed Mikey's car. “But yeah, I do like him.”

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath because Frank put him in second place. “So have you two started dating?”

“No.” Frank pushed on the buttons extra hard to keep his place in the line. “Why?”

“Oh, the chemistry is obviously there. It's obvious Gerard wants to be with you. I gotta admit though, it was difficult to read you, dude.” Mikey grunted. “How the fuck is your car going that god damn fast?”

“It's not the car it's because you're swerving every fucking where. Chill out, man.” Frank pointed out. “I think I knew he wanted to make us a thing, but I'm kind of uh, scared? I mean we already kissed-”

“Dude! You guys kissed, what are you scared of? _Rejection_?” Mikey sounded exasperated.

“I don't know.” He grunted, regretting telling Mikey to stop swerving because now he was catching up to him.

“Why not just try it out for a while? You guys get along good and obviously want to be together, it doesn't have to be so complicated.” He bumped into the side of Frank’s car.

“We’re taking it slow, whatever happens, happens. You know?” He pressed a series of buttons and his speed boosted to get farther ahead and out of Mikey's way.

“You’re fuckin’ cheating! What was that bullshit?” Mikey yelled.

“You were ramming into me, you dick!” Frank yelled back. “It’s not cheating, by the way, its just a special combo for this game.” He stated.

“Special combo my fucking ass! That’s a cheat, you fuck!” He yelled.

Gerard tossed over in the bed behind the boys. He pulled a pillow out from under his head and flung it into the back of Mikey’s head. “Mikey! shut the fuck up, maybe? I’m trying to sleep, dude. Be more like Frank, he lets me sleep.”

Mikey laughed. “Alright, sorry. Princess needs his beauty rest.” He teased and Frank joined in in laughing.

Gerard mumbled through tired lips. “Call me princess all you fuckin’ want, Mikes, I don’t give a shit. And I’m pretty even without sleep.”

“I second that.” Frank passed the finish line a hair before Mikey did.

“Motherfucker!” He began to dig in the pile of game cases again. “Wanna play something else? Racing sucks anyways.”

"Racing rules. You're just a sore loser." Gerard mumbled.

-

Gerard laid on the floor outside the bathroom, waiting for his turn to shower after Frank aired out the steam from his shower. "Hey, Frank?"

“Yeah?” Frank said, patting his hair dry while looking at himself in the foggy mirror. “I need a haircut, man. Look at how long it's getting. It's almost touching my shoulders! I don't know if it's ever been this long before.” He smiled and showed Gerard the length of his wet hair.

“I like it.” Gerard touched the ends of his own hair and studied Frank’s wet hair that clung to the back of his neck. “The bottom looks like it's starting to curl out. It actually looks really nice on you longer.”

“You don't like it short?” Frank asked.

“I like it both ways. Short and long hair both look great on you. But hey,” Gerard got back on the original subject. “The snow is still pretty bad, Frank, I don't think it would be safe to drive out like this. It's coming down pretty heavy right now. Would you mind staying maybe another two days? I know it's a lot to ask-”

“Yeah, that's cool.” Frank's cut him off. “I'm fine staying here until the snow clears out enough to drive. Is your mom okay with me being here?” 

“Yeah, she's pretty much ecstatic about it.” Gerard laughed. "I think she likes you more than she likes me."

"Aw, no way." He stepped out of the warm bathroom into the cold hallway. "I'm just fresh meat is all." He pulled his t-shirt over his head.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah! a huge thanks to everyone who leaves comments or kudos or just even reads my story :-)))))))


	9. Nine

“So,” Mikey swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Are your parents waiting for you?”

“No.” Frank elevated the glass of orange juice up to his lips. “I didn’t tell them I was planning to come see them.”

“Oh, I know. Gerard told me you were planning to surprise them.” Mikey shrugged.

“Are you talking about me?” Gerard yelled over the running sink water as he scrubbed the dishes from dinner the night before.

“Get over yourself!” Mikey yelled back and Gerard incoherently mumbled something to himself.

“Then what do you mean?” Frank pushed a slice of toast between his teeth.

“I meant, are they expecting you to come back? What kind of terms did you leave on?” He picked his fork back up. “I mean if it's not too weird to talk about? Shit, sorry if its weird.”

“No, that’s okay. Uh,” Frank wiped crumbs off his hand onto his jeans. “Well I left because my dad didn't like the fact I wanted to pursue music as a career. And uh,” He sniffed. His eyes followed Gerard as he came to sat down at the table to listen to Frank talk, he didn’t mind him being there. “I told you before, Mike, he locked my guitar away. Then for over, I think, two months I saved all the money I got from working at a convenient store and I had enough to buy a new guitar.” Frank took a deep breath.

“Wait, why would you buy a new guitar instead of just taking your own out of the attic?” Mikey interrupted. “Why get another when you have one above your head?”

“At the time, I just really needed to play and I wasn’t gonna be able to play on mine because the attic door had a lock on it. So, I figured I’d get another one that my dad didn’t own. He bought me the first one a long ass time ago, but this one was mine, you know?” Frank told them both.

“Yeah, I get why.” Gerard confirmed.

“Mhm, me too.” Mikey nodded with his head propped up on his hand.

“Uh, anyway,” Frank swallowed. “I brought it home while he was still at work, since I didn’t have school, and I just played it until he got home. About a week went by of me just playing it while he was at work and putting it away in the closet for the night once he got home.”

“What about your mom? Didn’t she hear?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah, she did. But she stayed quiet about it because she supported me, but didn’t want to lie to my dad, so she just kind of kept her back turned.” He sighed.

“Oh,” The brothers breathed out at the same time.

“Then one night, I work my shift late, I’m covering for some dude that works the night shift and is gonna be late. Anyway, I come home around eleven and my parents are sitting on the couch, my dad’s in his chair and my brand new, shiny guitar is laying on the carpet.”

“Oh, fuck.” Mikey leaned in closer to Frank.

“And at this point, I’m only halfway in the door, but I’m thinking about just going back to work and pretending I didn’t see anything.” Frank scoffed. “But, I come in like a dog with my tail between my legs and I started going towards my guitar to pick it up, but he stops me,” He paused, letting the boys’ anticipation grow. “And he tells me, _‘You can’t have that. I took the first one away for a reason.’_ and I’m telling him that it's mine, I bought it with my cash. But he insists that I can’t keep the fuckin’ thing.” Frank’s eyes were wide as were the other two boys’, feeling intense emotions while recalling the events of the night.

“Then what happened?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah, what’d he do?” Mikey wondered out loud.

“He tells me to go outside with him and my mom is just standing there, looking nervous as hell. Then he tells me, _‘Frank, carry it out for me, would ya? To the back porch.’_ and I don’t know why the fuck he wants it outside, but I automatically picked it up and followed him out, my ma is tailing us.” He took a drink of juice out of his glass. “And I lean it up against the wall of the house, I didn’t want it to get scratched on the cement.”

“Right, right.” Mikey nodded.

“And he picks up the bottle of lighter fluid from off his grill,” Mikey’s face stretched into a cringe. “I realize where he’s going with this now, and I start to beg him not to fuck up my guitar. I even tell him I’d lock it up in the attic. He’s just standing there, with no emotion on his face, just watching and listening to me lose all my dignity and beg like a fucking dog.” Frank shook his head. “And he walks over to the guitar and knocks it off the house, onto the ground. The fucking sound the strings made when it hit the ground fucking- it haunts me.”

Mikey gasped. “Fuck.”

“And I see that he’s pulling the cap off the lighter fluid and my mom starts to speak up. She tells him ‘ _Don’t do that. You didn’t buy it, it isn’t yours to destroy.’_ My dad doesn’t listen, so she starts yelling at him not to fuck up my guitar. Then he just fucking sprays it with the lighter fluid. There’s just a puddle laying on the strings and sinking into the knobs. I was so pissed, I couldn’t even talk.”

“Oh, shit.” Gerard sat, wide eyed.

“And he pulls a box of matches out of his back pocket.”

“No shit. Motherfucker!” Mikey hit his palm on the table.

“My mom is still yelling at him to stop, but I can’t even move. It actually froze me, I was stuck and I couldn’t do anything about it. Felt like I was watching this shit through a window. And he strikes one and lights it, then drops it into the puddle, a small fire started, then he lit two at the same time and dropped those. The whole fucking thing just, fucking shot up! The fire was huge. The fucking smell of it burning is still stuck in my nose, I swear. I could hear him telling me if I continued treating music like something I could have as a career, my life would crash and burn just like the guitar.”

“What’d you do?” Gerard spoke quietly.

“I watched it burn for a minute, not really believing he did that, but once I realized it was really happening, I went back into the house. I pulled my empty, old, school backpack from the closet, filled it with a little bit of clothes and some things I wanted to bring with me. My mom was begging me not to leave the whole time I was packing my stuff up, but I couldn’t even listen to her because I was just so pissed. I come out into the living room and my dad is standing there, looking at me with his arms crossed and I can see the guitar still burning outside behind him, which just _fills_ me with more anger.” Frank took a deep breath and sighed.  "He told me not to leave. I opened the front door, said fuck you to my dad, told my mom I loved her, and before I even realized what I did, I was at the bus stop.”

“ _Those_ are the terms you and your dad are on?! Fuck, dude.” Mikey was astonished by the note Frank had left home on.

Frank nodded. “I heard that I was reported missing, so I got to North Jersey as fast as I could. I was planning to go a little more Midwest, but then I met Gerard.”

“You were gonna go to the Midwest?” Gerard laughed. “To do _what_?”

“I don’t know! Get a farm, play tunes for the country folk.” Frank grinned. “Imagine that, now that’s somethin’.”

“Farmer Frank.” Mikey said to himself. “How the fuck?” He laughed.  

“I think that would  be a nice life for me, don’t you guys?” He giggled.

“Doesn’t sound half bad, if I’m being honest.” Gerard lifted his eyebrows, thinking about it.

“Hello boys!” Donna breathed, stumbling inside with arms full of grocery bags. “Come help me unload.” She set down the paper bags on the counter.

The three boys simultaneously stood up from their chairs and pushed their bare feet into pairs of sneakers laid by the front door. Unloading groceries out of a car was the something Frank’s own mother usually did herself and never asked him to help with. Offers were thrown out to assist her from both Frank Sr. and Frank, but they always went unneeded.  Even though the cold air was making Frank shiver and the tips of his nose and ears were burning from the cold, he really wholeheartedly enjoyed carrying bags from the car to the kitchen so Donna didn’t have to do it alone. Listening to Gerard and Mikey complain about taking in the remaining bags also had some comforting edge to it for Frank.

“Thank you, Frank.” She slammed the trunk of the car closed. “I love my kids, but taking in one bag of groceries is so disrespectful when I asked for _help unloading_!”

 -

After days of staying cooped up in a warm house where the atmosphere was alive instead of walking on eggshells like he was used to, Frank began to feel sad about leaving Donna and Mikey behind. He sincerely appreciated every second Donna took out of her day to acknowledge Frank to feed him or talk to him or make sure he was comfortable. And he cherished every moment Mikey spent with him making him feel like he belonged there, in the house, and letting him get to know each other.

Mikey pulled Frank into a hug, their two thin bodies pressed together surprised Frank and everyone else. Mikey was not the hugging type, especially to new people he'd just met. Gerard was amazed by how close he and his brother had grown the past few days they had gotten acquainted with one another.

“Come back soon.” Mikey told him once he broke the hug. “You're pretty cool, dude.”

“Definitely.” Frank smiled back. “I like it here. You’re really cool, man. I’m gonna miss you a lot, hopefully I can see you soon.”

“I’m gonna miss you too. If you come back soon enough we can try out the rest of the games.” He spoke like a child, lightening the mood even more.

“Oh, baby!” Donna threw herself into him and embraced him with a constricting hug. “Frankie! I’m going to miss you! Get my phone number from Gerard and keep me updated on the sobriety, alright?”

“Yeah, Gerard give him my number too.” Mikey butt in.

“I will, ma’am. You don’t have anything to worry about I’m gonna stay sober. I’m gonna miss you.” He laughed into her hair.

She gripped him once again in one last bone crushing hug. “I’ll miss you too, honey.” She then stuck a mean finger in his face that he wasn’t prepared for. “Say no to drugs, all of ‘em. Especially heroin. Oh, and meth. And every other one, for that matter.”

“Will do.” He said through stretched lips and Donna pressed her lip gloss onto Frank's cheek. Staining it with the shine.  

Frank shivered once he was out the door and in the snowy weather after a prolonged goodbye. He pulled his thick, bulky jacket tighter over his frame, needing his layers to trap more of his body heat. Gerard skipped to the car and jumped in, immediately cranking the heat all the way up. Frank slid in slowly to the passenger side and sat, basking in the warmth.

“Still want to go?” Gerard broke the silence, waiting for the hot air to warm up their cold bodies.

“Yes. Yeah, I still think I should go.” Frank tried to calm himself. “Does my face still look beat up at all?”

Gerard inspected Frank's face, squinting close. “No. Your lip is completely healed. Your eyes look fine. The bruise on the side of your face looks completely faded, you really have to look close to see it.” Frank nodded.

“Alright. What now?” He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides.

“Want to put your address in the GPS?” Gerard suggested.

“Yeah,” Frank breathed, leaning forward to type his home address into the car’s GPS. “Alright, it's in.” He slumped back into the car seat.

“That's a three hour drive we've got, get comfortable.” Gerard smiled as he backed out of the driveway. “Wanna stop for coffee at the gas station?”

“Definitely. Oh and could we get peach rings?” Frank asked, innocently.

“Yeah,” Gerard giggled. “Of course.”

Frank removed his coats and threw them in the backseat, the warmth starting to envelope his body. Once at a red light, Gerard did the same. He started to feel his stomach twist and he felt like he was going to throw up everything he had eaten that day. He also stated to feel like he was going to pass out, his hands went clammy and he felt disoriented. Gerard noticed Frank's discomfort and he let one hand off the wheel to hold one of Frank's hands.

“I'm so fucking nervous, Gee.” Frank whispered.

“It's okay, what's the worst that could happen?” Gerard squeezed his hand.

“They could shut the door in my face and shun me, they probably already have. Oh, we shouldn't go. My dad is probably still really mad about me leaving.” Frank straightened up in his seat and tore his sweater off, being left in just his t-shirt. “It’s a bad idea. Oh, fuck, _oh_ fuck. No, I can’t go back he hates me.”

“Hey, Frank!” Gerard got his attention. “Calm _down._  You are an adult, now. Okay?” Frank nodded. “You don't have to let your father intimidate you like this. And you heard my mom, you have somewhere to go if the worst case scenario happens, pumpkin.” Gerard attempted to lift his mood.

“Yeah, you're right.” Frank inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“What's your mom like? You seem really eager to see her.” Gerard asked in an attempt to calm him a bit about his visiting.

Frank pulled a piece of gum out of a pack and unwrapped it slowly. “Well,” he smiled at the thought of her and pushed the gum between his teeth. “She's really small. Probably where I get it from. And she's _so_ sweet. I honestly have no clue why she married such an asshole like my dad, she deserves better. She's tough, though. You can't fuck around with her. Want one?” Gerard nodded and held his hand out for a stick of gum. “She's really a great mom.”

“She sounds like it. I'm so excited for you to finally be able to see her after so long.” He popped it into his mouth..

“I just wish I could've seen them _on_ Christmas. I wish I wasn't sick like I was.” Frank spoke sadly, feeling disapproving of himself.

“Well, you're seeing them for New Years! That's a good holiday too.” Gerard attempted to find the bright side. “You all can start the new year off in a positive way this time.”

“Oh, yeah that's true. I didn't even realize it was New Year's.” Frank smiled, not feeling so bad after all.

-

Frank sipped on the sweet coffee while Gerard was taking huge swigs of his dark coffee every now and then. He watched him as he sat wide eyed at the road, watching everything in front, around, and behind the car, keeping himself alert. Frank turned the heat down and the radio up, trying to find a station that played what he considered enjoyable music. He settled on an alternative station with the volume at a medium level.

“How’s your coffee? Mine is so bitter, even too bitter for me.” Gerard cleared his throat.

“Its so fucking sweet. I can feel myself getting a cavity.” Frank ironically then bit into a peach ring.

“Wanna mix them?” Gerard suggested.

“Way ahead of you.” Frank already had the lids removed and had started to pour the bitter coffee into his sweet, watching the color turn a slightly darker shade. He sipped on it periodically, tasting it through the phases. Once he had found an amount of sweetness that he liked, he started to pour a bit into Gerard’s cup. He did the same as he had with his own drink, tasting it every now and then, taking the flavors very serious.

“Here,” He handed Gerard his new drink. “How’s that?”

“Oh,” Gerard smacked his lips. “That’s actually really fucking good, Frank.”

-

Despite drinking a whole cup of sugar filled coffee, Frank had managed to fall asleep with his face pressed against the window. Gerard drove only listening to the radio for about an hour and a half before he started to feel the uncomfortable itch of needing to empty his bladder. A blue sign with ‘Rest Area 1 Mile’ written in huge white letters caught his immediate attention and he sped on the short path towards it.

He pulled into a parking space in front of the bathrooms. The place was empty, not a soul in sight. It was no surprise though, snow had continued to lightly fall, making it safe to drive, but the majority of people wouldn’t be traveling in snowy weather. Even if it was as light as it had been.

“Frank,” He hit his arm. “Hey, Frank. Wake up.”

“Hm?” Frank groaned and wiped the thin trail of drool off the corner of his mouth. “Oh, shit.” He whined while rubbing his eyes. “Are we here?”

“No, I stopped at a rest stop. I had to pee.” Gerard turned the engine off and stepped out of the car. “Figured you’d want to collect yourself in front of a mirror before we actually got there.” Frank opened the door and stumbled out into the cold.

“Shit, it’s cold.” He picked his sweater out of the car and pulled it onto his body. “Yeah, thanks Gee. Was I drooling the whole time?”  He wiped furiously at his stained cheek and mouth.

“I didn’t even notice you were drooling until now.”  He stepped onto the concrete floor of the bathroom.

“My hair looks stupid.” Frank perched himself on the edge of the sink, criticizing himself in the mirror. “Its too long, do you have scissors or something?”

“Yeah, I have scissors in the glove box. I thought you were excited about your hair growing long though?” Gerard leaned over the urinal.

“I just want to look really good when I see my parents, not dirty. I don’t want them to think I’m a hobo now. Even though I was, I’m not anymore.” He pulled at the sides that were starting the curl out by his ears. “Gee, look." Gerard zipped his pants up and went to stand next to Frank by the sink while he washed his hands. He peered into the mirror Frank was stood in.

“I don’t think it looks bad or dirty at all, pumpkin.” Gerard shrugged. Frank skipped out of the bathroom without a word. “Frank?” Gerard dried his hands with a paper towel. Frank ran back into the bathroom, scissors in hand.

“Would you do it? You have steadier hands than me.” He thrust the scissors into his hands.

“Oh, I’ve never really cut someone else’s hair, Frank.” Gerard spoke nervously. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I know you won’t. I just need the parts that are curling out cut off. Not a lot. Please? Would you do it?” He clasped his hands together.

“I don’t know…” Gerard bit on the inside of his cheek.

“Please, please, _please_.” He batted his eyelashes. “Just the curls?”

“Fine. Just the curls.” Gerard agreed, standing behind Frank.

He held the curl the was next to Frank’s ear and snipped it off. Frank started smiling once he heard the hair being cut. Gerard continued around his head, clipping the bottom ends just so they laid comfortably right over the nape of his neck. Once at the front of his head, Gerard snipped the front edges of his hair, just to get a cleaner look all around. Hr brushed the hair off Frank’s face and shoulders and stared, nervous that he’d made a mistake and made him look awful. A few pieces he had missed stuck out like sore thumbs. Clipping them off was an easy fix and it brought the whole look together. The haircut looked satisfying to Gerard, but he wouldn’t feel at ease until Frank approved of it.

“Are you done?” He noticed Gerard was staring at his hair for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Yes.” Gerard stated simply. He watched Frank turn to the mirror and held his breath as he shook it out.

“Damn,” Frank ran his hands through it. “It doesn’t look half bad. I look way more presentable now. Thanks Gee.” He hugged him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Gerard hugged back, holding Frank with his hands on the middle of his back. Frank pulled out of the hug first, but gripped Gerard’s face in both of his hands. Almost automatically, Gerard leaned down to meet Frank’s lips in a kiss. Their open mouths melded together and they pressed against each other's lips. Before he could attempt to stick his tongue in, Frank pulled away and quickly, but gracefully broke the kiss.

“Let’s get going, I want to get there before the sun sets.” Frank told him.

“Yeah, of course. Let's go.” Gerard dusted the hair off the scissors and followed Frank out, leaving behind the small pile of Frank’s hair.

-

“Alright, I got one.” Frank caught his breath from laughing. “Would you rather have to be naked forever or wear a snowsuit forever?”

“Oh, easy. Snowsuit. I’d just move to Antarctica.” Gerard shrugged. “Would you rather eat ten toenails or ten toe hairs?”

“All of yours are so gross!” Frank giggled.

“You’ve gotta pick one! Toenails or toe hairs?”

“Fuck, uh. I guess the hairs? No they’d get all stuck all over your mouth, I change my mind, the toe nails.” He sighed and shuttered. “Would you rather eat a live lizard or a live rat?”

“Frank!” Gerard screamed. “No way!”

“Hey, I answered the toe one, you weirdo. Answer mine!” Frank laughed loudly.

“I can’t choose, they’re both disgusting!”

“Worse than toe hair and toenails?”

“Yes!” Gerard exclaimed. “So much worse.”

“Tic, toc, Gee. You gotta choose one or the other. Eat a live lizard or live rat?” Frank grinned.

“Oh, fucking- the lizard! I choose the stupid lizard. I think a rat would have way too much blood and stuff.” Gerard said, defeated.

“Gross.” Frank giggled.

“Then what would you have chose?”

“It wasn’t my question.” Frank smirked.

“Fine. Would you rather eat a live lizard or live rat?”

“You can’t copy my question! Make your own!” Frank yelled.

“Eat a live rat or a live lizard?!” Gerard yelled back.

“You just fucking flipped it around! Asshole! Make your own!” Frank yelled louder.

Gerard threw his head back and laughed. “Fine, fine! Would you rather,” Frank lifted a water bottle up to his mouth “Bite the head of a live lizard or bite the head off a live rat?”

Frank choked on the water that was pouring down his throat. It fountained out of his mouth onto the dashboard and dripped onto his clothes. “You fuck-ing asshole.” Frank struggled while coughing up water. “I q-quit!”

“Alright, alright,” Gerard laughed with his head ducked down. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and wiped the water off the dashboard. “Would you rather fight a hundred cat sized bears or one bear sized cat?”

“A house cat?” Frank asked. “A bear sized cat probably, after, I think, the tenth cat sized bear I’d be too tired to keep fighting them and I’d die.”

“What if you died fighting that bear sized cat?” Gerard asked “That’s a huge cat.”

“I would probably die, but I would die in a bad ass way.” Frank explained.

Gerard pulled down a route leading to a string of neighborhoods, and followed the green line on the GPS. Frank saw the convenient store that he used to work at and felt his stomach sink. It would only be a short matter of time before he was at his old home and had to confront his father, his probably still very angry father. He watched the road as Gerard started slowing down, cruising along, squinting at the route on the screen, looking where to turn. He started to hum, confused as to why the machine was telling him to keep going straight at a dead end.

“Turn left into the next street up here. Then stay right and the house with the big tree outside is mine.” Frank swallowed.

“ _Oh_ , okay. I see.” Gerard pulled into the street. “Ah, these houses are nice. Look at those decorations!” Gerard stared at Frank’s old neighbor’s yards decorated with lights and inflatable characters. “This one?” Gerard pulled to a stop on the curb in front of the house.

“Yeah, this is mine.” Frank stared at the outside of his house. Christmas lights measly hung along the perimeter of the roof. Tears burned his eyes and he rubbed them out. “Can we go home? I uh- this was a really bad I-”

“Would you rather,” Gerard cut him off. “Reunite with your parents after a long, hard year, _or_ go home because you’re a little nervous and not get to see them?”

Frank sat on the question for a moment. “I’m gonna go." He pulled his thick jacket out of the backseat after unbuckling his seat belt. The material clung to his shoulders and he huffed out a deep breath, gaining courage to face them. Opening the car door made his stomach flop over. Pressing his shoe into the snow covered yard flipped it back over, and he somehow already felt at home. His home wasn’t as warm and welcoming as the Way’s, but it was still his _home_. “You coming?” He leaned his head into the car.

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “I feel like it would be inappropriate. If you and your folks feel comfortable letting me come in after you see each other, then I’ll come in.”

“Okay,” Frank whispered, feeling his courage diminish now that he had no support on his shoulder.

“Go in there, pumpkin.” Gerard looked up at him. “You’ll feel good once you see them. Can they see you right now?” His eyes quickly darted behind Frank.

“No, you parked behind the tree where they can’t see shit.” Frank giggled. “Alright. I’m going.” He shut the car door, but his feet stayed planted in the snow by the car.

Gerard cracked the passenger window open once he realized Frank wasn’t moving. “Are you going to move sometime this century?”

Frank started to panic again and reached for the door handle to get inside, but it wouldn’t open the door. “Gerard, did you lock the door?!” He hissed into the cracked window.

“Mm, yup.” He said simply. “Its for your own good, Frank."

Frank frantically jerked the handle, hoping the lock would stop doing it job somehow and he could get in, but it wouldn't open. "Open it! Gerard I'm not kidding, let me in!" Frank kept his voice low. "It's too cold to be standing out here!"

"No, go into the fucking house, Frank! Stop pulling it it’s not going to open!’ Frank let go of the car door handle. “Now go, before I roll the window up.”

“You fuck.” Frank flipped him off and turned to face the house.

He had no real escape plan now that Gerard had locked him out of the car. He pulled the fur hood of his jacket up onto his head and trudged to the front door. He looked behind him and could only see the end of Gerard’s dark car, contrasting completely against the white snow. He watched the pipe blow out smoke for a moment, then focused on the fog coming out of his mouth from his own breathing. Breathing out and counting each puff of fog, he was able to calm himself down a bit. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled one last time before lifting his fist to knock on the wood door. Hearing and feeling the noise of the hard door absorbing the hit of the knuckles of his fingers made him start to sweat from nervousness under his coat. He dropped his head down and stared at his worn out sneakers, cursing himself in his thoughts for forgetting to put on a nicer pair of shoes.

The lock clicked after a moment and he lifted his head, feeling extremely frightened of what awaited him on the other side. The thought of running as fast as he could down the road before the door opened and they saw who he was flooded his mind and he worked hard against it to keep his feet planted on the porch. Warmth first his the tip of his cold nose, then spread down his face as the door swung open.

Frank’s eyes started to burn with tears and the ones looking back at him filled with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so happy with all the positivity and love this story is getting. thanks to everyone who reads my story, you are all so so lovely. :-)


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: the end has smut just in case that's not your thing.  
> p.s tysm for reading my story :-)

“Frank?” The quiet, ragged voice breathed out in disbelief. The two looked each other in the face, neither expecting their day to turn this way. “Is that really you?” Frank nodded, watching his father cover his mouth while looking him up and down. “Oh, my boy!” Frank Sr. sobbed and pulled him into a strong, suffocating hug, and Frank gripped back hard, holding onto his father for balance, feeling like his knees were about to give out under him.

“I’m so sorry, pops.” Frank cried into his father’s shoulder. “I should’ve never said that to you before I left.” Tears sunk into his father's shirt and neck. “I’m so sorry, it was my fault. I overreacted so much and it was all fucked up.”

“I should have left you to your music, boy. What I did was way out of line, I should have never been so awful. I should have never did something so terrible.” He confessed. “God,” He held onto his shoulders and studied his face more. “You look healthy,” He brushed imaginary dirt off Frank’s shoulders. “A little thin, but healthy. Where’d you get this coat?”

“I bought it in November. Nice huh?” Frank showed it off, feeling accomplished when he heard his father make an approving noise.

“Who’s knocking?” His mother’s voice called out and a tear gathered itself on his waterline before falling down his cheek. “Who is it for God’s sake?” She held a dry dish towel, drying her hands. “Fr-” Her legs froze and locked in place once she saw Frank standing on the porch, the towel fell to her feet. “Wh- Frank? Y- But- baby!” She fumbled her words and launched herself into him.

“Ma,” Frank held her small body to his, it was now his turn to hold the other person up. The familiar scent of her hair wafted up and made him feel at ease. She wiped the tears that were falling down his face off with her delicate fingers and inspected him.

“Don’t cry, baby. Oh, goodness!” Tears of her own started to fill her eyes. “Get out of the snow, come here.” She pulled him inside the house and into another hug. “Where have you been? You had me so, so worried. A phone call would have been nice! Is that a bruise on your face?! Have you gotten sick? Did you stay out of the cold? Are you hungry?” She spoke quickly, getting a year's worth of questions all out at once. “Oh, dinner's almost done! Can you stay to eat with us?” Her eyes looked like they were begging him to stay.

“Yeah,” Frank breathed out, tears still threatened to fall, but he was smiling so hard his cheeks ached. “That would be really nice, Ma.” He followed her into the kitchen, his father's hand laid on his shoulder.

“Coffee? Or tea? Water?” His mom desperately asked.

“Water would be nice.” Frank leaned against the counter and inhaled the familiar smell of the house.

“Are you going to answer your mother’s questions?”  His father asked, still standing close to him.

“Oh, yeah. Uh,” Frank recalled what she had asked so quickly. “I’ve been living in North Jersey for a while. Sorry about not calling, I didn’t think you guys wanted to hear from me. Yeah, this is a bruise. I got sick,” Frank decided against confessing he was sick from detox. “A bad flu, but I got over it. I found a friend to stay with once it got cold.“

“Up north? All by yourself?” His mother asked while passing him the glass of water. “What were you doing up there?”

“Well, I only went up there because cops were looking for me down here, but I was actually planning to go midwest.”

“Midwest?” She looked to him for an explanation that wasn’t going to come. “I’m just happy you’re here now.” Her delicate hands laid on his shoulder.

“What’s that bruise from?” His father asked.

“Oh, a couple of guys jumped me, I didn’t have money on me, so they just beat me up.” Frank lied, figuring the whole truth didn’t need to be shared.

“Ah, so you’re not in danger or in debt to anyone?” He asked. Frank nodded. “Good.  so who’s the friend that you’re staying with?” Frank Sr. asked.

“Uh, I met them up there, then when I let him know I needed a place to stay, he let me stay in his apartment.” Frank looked at his feet.

“Oh, is he nice?” His mom asked, rubbing Frank’s arm.

“Yeah, he’s really nice.” Frank nodded, looking to his mother.

“Will we ever get to meet him?” His father asked.

“You can meet him now if you want.” Frank looked up, his dad’s brows pressed to the middle in confusion. “Yeah, he drove me here, he’s out in his car and said if you guys said it was okay then he’d come inside. He said that he thought it’d be inappropriate to be part of when we first saw each other after so long.”

“He’s out in the car?” His father asked. Frank nodded. “Well, I think I’d like to meet the fella, he sounds alright. Lin? What do you think?”

She combed out Frank’s hair with her fingers, attempting to place it where she thought it would look nicest. “Since he was so nice to little Frankie, then I suppose. I don’t see why not. Baby, you wanna go get your friend?” She pushed a lock of his hair back with a finger wet by her saliva.

Frank nodded and quickly left through the front door. The whole way down the lawn, he could feel his parents’ eyes burning holes into the back of his thick jacket. It was understandable, he had run away once, they were entitled to suspicion that he would do it again. He swung around to the driver's side of the car. His eyes fell on Gerard who had his head laid back and his eyes closed, feeding himself leftover peach rings. Frank knocked on the window and Gerard flinched, dropping the bags of rings into his lap. Confusion and sympathy flooded onto his face, thinking something bad had happened to Frank.

“Why are you out here? Did it go wrong?” Gerard gulped, mentally preparing for the worst.

“Oh, no! It went way better than I expected, my dad doesn’t hate me and they didn’t decide to shun me from the family afterall. Clean the sugar off your face, they want to meet you.” Frank leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Gerard’s lips, sugar transfered onto his own lips and Gerard couldn’t help but stare as Frank licked it off his lips.

Gerard quickly dusted his face off until he didn’t feel anymore sugar and stepped out of the car. He pulled a sweater out of the backseat and stretched over his head. “”How do I look?” His hands ran down the front of his torso.

Frank combed his fingers through Gerard’s dark, unkempt, dirty looking hair that laid just above his shoulders. “Here,” He pushed the hair back, similar to how his mother had done previously to him. “If you show your forehead,” He brushed it out so it looked better placed. “You’ll look nicer. There, what do you think? Better?”

Gerard peered into the car window that stuck out of the side, he finger-brushed the hair on the top a bit more. “Yeah, so much better, I look cleaner. Alright,” Gerard sighed, then started nervously laughing. “I’m fucking nervous, dude. What if they don’t like me.” Panic set in, along with feelings of heavy guilt for locking Frank out of the car when he felt this way. Definitely a thousand times worse, though.

“You’ll be alright, I promise, just be yourself and I bet they’ll love you. They raised me and I like you! That means something, right?” Frank looked back at Gerard, who did not look convinced or eased at all. “My mom loves art, my dad likes a firm handshake and confidence.” Frank shrugged, advising Gerard.

“Duly noted.” He groaned, pulling his feet through the heavy snow that coated the yard.

Frank pushed the front door gently open and laid his eyes on his mother and father standing in the living room. His mother was picking lint off of his father’s gray sweater, complaining about his clothes, while he sat silent on the arm of the couch and let her have her way and pick. Their eyes met his first, desperate for someone respectable, then moved to inspect Gerard up and down. His mother looked a bit relieved, but his father wasn’t convinced so far purely by his nice sweater and combed back hair. Frank’s mother came at Gerard first and she surprised him by pulling him down by his neck into a hug, which he gratefully accepted. She kissed his cheek, surprisingly to him not leaving behind any lipstick, and thanked him. After inspecting his exterior, Frank Sr. came at him, which made him much more nervous. He straightened his posture and held out his hand for Gerard to shake. He gripped his hand firmly and made sure it was strong the whole time, like Frank had mentioned before.

“Nice handshake, boy.” Frank Sr. nodded his head, obviously satisfied. Gerard mentally thanked Frank for the tip. “Come sit.” He invited Gerard to sit on the couch, which he did. Frank dropped his jacket off his body and sat next to Gerard. “You’ve been the one taking care of my boy?”

“No sir, he takes care of himself, we just live together.” Gerard spoke with confidence.

“Yes, he’s very independent I would expect him to care for himself. You a good kid?” He asked.

“I would think so, yes. I’m enrolled in college and I have a part time job.”

“What do you study?” His father asked.

“Art.” He stated and flicked his eyes to Frank’s mother, whose face lit up.

“Art? You make art?” She leaned in.

“Yes, ma’am. Do you?” He asked her.

“Oh, no. I’ve never had the talent. Maybe you could show me some tricks?” She suggested.

“Yeah, of course.” Gerard grinned.

“Care to stay for dinner?” She suggested.

-

Frank and his father finished cleaning the last dishes from dinner together in a comfortable silence, both of them listened to Gerard teach Linda how to properly draw human body parts. Frank listened carefully to Gerard, just enjoying how patient and informative he was. Frank Sr. listened closely because he was compelled to protect his wife from any new, strange man. He knew Gerard was no threat to her, but the instinct to protect her still surfaced itself and made him pay close attention to their art lesson.

“Then a line in the middle from the top of the circle down, past the circle and stretch it down a little less than the long the circle is.” He spoke while he drew his line. “See what I did?”

“Like that?” She asked, hesitant of her line length.

“That’s perfect.” He assured her. Then you draw a horizontal line just above the bottom edge of the circle.” He watched her sketch over her shoulder. “Nice. Here’s a tricky part. Two more horizontal lines, about an equal distance apart, under that line.” The tip of his pencil pointed to the original horizontal line she drew. “Keep a gap between the top and the second lines.” He spoke slow as she watched him sketch his lines.

“Oh, dear.” She held her breath while she sketched them out. “Oh, that wasn’t too bad. Look, at that, baby.” She held her piece of paper up to Frank, who was now sat across the table from them, observing.

“Very nice, ma.” He smiled. “You’re a natural.” His eyes followed her delicate fingers as she softly sketched alongside Gerard.

“The top line is where the bottom of the eyes will lay,” Gerard drew a curve on the line on the left side of the face and brought the line up into an almond shape and sketched a circle in the middle of it, making a very realistically shaped eye. “The distance apart your eyes are, are the same as the width of your eye.” Gerard lined two of his fingers at each end of his eye, then fit that between his eyes. “See?” Frank’s mother gasped.

“I never would’ve thought!” She measured her own eye and eye distance before sketching the lines of the bottoms of her eyes. “Now, show me how to make it look like a real life eye. Just like how yours looks.”

“Bring it up a bit, look at mine. Just curve it how it feels right, then draw another line coming out of the edge, up and over the eye. That’s the crease of your eye.” He ghosted his pencil above his line work.

She held her breath and sketched light lines. “Oh, I did it!” Her pencil moved to the next eye.

“In the middle draw a big circle, then two smaller ones inside, like this.”

“Hey Frank?” His father spoke quietly, not to disturb Linda and Gerard.

“Hm?” He flicked his eyes over.

“Come,” He motioned with his hand for Frank to follow him. “I wanna show you something.”

“Yeah, okay.” Frank pushed his body out of the chair and followed his father.

“Are you staying overnight? You want to stay a couple nights?” He asked, showing compassion Frank had never expected.

“If that’s alright with you and mom, I do have to get back to work next week and Gerard has to get back to school the same.” He spoke, moving behind his father down the hall.

“Well its your house too, of course you should stay.” He stopped in front of the closed door of Frank’s old bedroom. “It’s in there.”

“What is?” Frank asked, turning the doorknob, he stepped slowly into his old bedroom. “Dad,” His voice shook.

Familiarity settled into Frank along with a whole list of overwhelming feelings as his eyes recognized the blue guitar sat that laid on the bed. Dust collected on it, but as he looked around, everything else had a thin layer of dust collecting. Everything was left as it was. Obviously, his mother had taken the liberty of tidying up, but everything was in its spot. A wave of nostalgia overcame him and he began to feel angry with himself for leaving in the first place, but that soon settled once his mind flooded with the good things he found when he left. His body practically threw itself across the room and he pulled it up off the bed carefully. Dust coated the tips of his fingers as he picked it up off the bed. His whole body filled with warmth as the familiar weight of the guitar hung off the strap on his shoulder. The neck fit perfectly in his hand and the strings felt right pressed against his fingers.

“I’m sorry I ever locked it away,” His father stood stiff in the doorway, his arms crossed with one hand on his face. “I uh,’ He shook his head, feeling ashamed he’d taken it away in the first place. “I took it back down after you left and cleaned the thing up some. You know, I cleaned off all the dust and polished it, but it sat in here so long, it just collected more dust.” His stomach fluttered with nervousness when Frank turned to face him.

“You polished it?” Frank asked in utter disbelief, he’d assumed his father could care less if the guitar rotted away in the attic, but evidently, he felt a different way now, he’d taken the time to polish it. He set the guitar back on the bed.

“Yeah, I went out and bought guitar polish and cleaned it up.” Frank Sr. waved his hand around. “I thought it was the only right thing to do after such an explosive situation.”

“Dad,” Frank sighed, pushing himself into a hug with his father. “Thank you.”

“You can play it as much as you want, Frank.” He said once the hug was broken. “In the night would you just try to keep the noise down? I only ask because I still have to work in the morning.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course! I can’t believe…” He trailed off, staring at the guitar laying alone, waiting to be touched for the first time in over a year.

“How has this music thing been going for you, anyway?” He asked, genuinely wondering if he had managed to make something of the hobby.

“You wouldn’t believe this, a band is looking for a guitarist up there. I’m gonna meet the guys once I get back up there and try out, I really need to brush up if I’m gonna make the cut.” He looked his father in the eyes, they were filled with genuine interest. “It’s gonna work out dad, if they don’t like me, I’ll start my own damn band.”

“They’ll like you, Frank. Believe it or not, I think you’re a truly amazing guitar player. You practiced so much and it paid off.” He smiled, feeling a sense a fulfillment. “Maybe I can come up there and see you play on stage. Where you’re supposed to be loud.”  
Frank felt his body fill with hope. “Oh, would you? You could bring mom, maybe I could get you guys in free! A family discount.” He stared back, needing his father to agree.

“Just call me and I’ll be there at your first show.” He promised. “It’s late, son. I should get to bed now.” He held Frank’s head in one hand and kissed the top of it like someone would do to a baby. “Goodnight. Love you.” He turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

Frank swallowed hard once he heard those words. A strange feeling spread like vines through his chest and he couldn’t speak. “G-goodnight.” He said alone. “Love you too.” He felt the taste of the words lingering on his tongue hours after they were spoken.

-

“Frank!” Gerard burst through his bedroom door after Mrs. Iero pointed out which one was his and they'd said goodnight to one another. “Your mom draws so good, I-” His train of speech stopped abruptly once he noticed Frank sat on his bed, guitar in his lap, and asleep.

His face softened seeing him in such a peaceful state after so many days on top of day with the stress of unfamiliarity being a new constant in his life. Looking around Frank’s room at the small mess of junk stacked on his dresser. CD’s sat stacked on top of each other, band after band sat on top of one another, Gerard recognizing most of them, the lot of the ones he recognized were only in his memory because his brother liked them. Magazines and a hoard of books spilled out of the small bookcase. Some books sat on the side, even though the ones inside were crammed until the last inch of space was being used. His fingers ran across the spines of the books as he read some of the titles, feeling surprised when he noticed he had read some of the books. ‘ _No wonder we get along so damn well.’_ Gerard thought to himself. The top shelf of the book case stockpiled movies, mostly horror and comedy, but some romance movies sat under the layer of dust. Gerard inspected the small TV that sat on the dresser, behind it was a DVD player. The posters scattered along the wall reminded him of his brother’s wall. But Frank’s poster were strategically placed and nicely hung up straight, unlike Mikey’s who were just slapped on the wall and lay where they fell. Despite being coated in dust, it was obvious Frank cared for his stuff immensely. Gerard carefully picked the guitar off Frank’s lap and leaned it up against the amp that sat still and lonely in the corner. Frank awoke due to the absence of weight and seemed surprised to see Gerard in his room, putting his stuff away.

“Hey,” He groaned. “Weird seeing you in my room.”

“Weird being in your room.” Gerard sat on the bed. “Did you play it?”

“Yeah, I don’t even remember for how long. I think I had a dream where I was playing it.” Frank laughed. “Did you teach my mom all your cool art stuff?”

“She’s really good, Frank. She has a talent, I’m not just saying that.” Gerard laid down. “Do you have pajamas in here? I don’t want to go out to the car but I don’t want to sleep in jeans.”

Frank pointed at the dresser with the TV on it. “Top left drawer. Get me a pair too.”

Gerard looked at the many pairs of folded pajama pants he had stuck in his drawer, most of them were plaid print. He picked two pairs out of the drawer and threw one at Frank who was trying to pull his pants off while still sitting in the bed. Gerard slipped them on, immediately noticing the heavy smell of fabric softener that clung to him.

“Do you think your mom washed these when you were gone?” Gerard clicked the light off and climbed onto the bed.

“They do smell really clean, don’t they? Man, that’s weird.” Frank struggled once again to slip himself into the pair of pajama pants.

“I’m really glad this worked out for you, Frank.” Gerard spoke once they were both settled under the blanket.

“Me too. I’m glad my dad wasn’t a dick about everything. He seems like he really changed” Frank flipped onto his side, facing Gerard. Moonlight fell into Frank’s room a lot differently than it did into Gerard’s room and he couldn’t see his face.

“You think so?” Gerard stared into Frank’s eyes in the dark. One was illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that caught Frank’s face, he reached out to touch it, feeling compelled for a reason unknown to him.

Frank’s eyes closed and his stomach fluttered at the soft touch of Gerard’s cold fingers on his warm cheek. Externally, it felt a lot different and out of place being here with Gerard, but internally, he knew there wasn’t a place in the world he’d feel like Gerard didn’t belong next to him. His own hand laid over the one that was on his face, flattening it against his cheek and he wrapped his fingers around it. Gerard flipped his hand over and matched his fingers up with Frank’s and lifted their hands up into the slice of moonlight that came through. Their fingertips pressed together in the air, but then disconnected and fell, causing their fingers to become interlaced. Frank closed his hand and Gerard reciprocated, holding each other tight by the hand. Frank disconnected their hands and started to trace around Gerard’s sharp facial features. His index finger slid down the bridge of his nose, pausing once it got to the tip and he pressed down a bit. Then he slid down to his cupid’s bow and traced around his lips, staying on the edge of them, even when Gerard opened his mouth. He started at the cupid's bow again, now his finger pressed on the actual lip, tracing on his open mouth before dropping his finger onto his tongue.

Gerard quickly closed his mouth, starting to slowly suck on Frank’s finger. He set his hand on the small curve of Frank’s side and held him softly, while he tried his hardest not to moan like crazy from the feeling of his warm mouth. Gerard ran his teeth along the length of Frank’s finger and he pulled it out of his mouth, making a fist. Frank jumped on top of Gerard, matching up their hips. Leaning down and hastily pressing his mouth to his felt like the only right thing to do in this moment and Gerard reciprocated that need by holding Frank’s back and kissing him back hard. He licked along his bottom lip and Frank opened his mouth, inviting him in. Gerard was a good kisser, to say the least, and it drove Frank crazy, he had to use all his might to not start moaning and even then, one or two small moans slipped out.

He kissed the middle of Gerard’s neck right where his adam's apple sat in his throat, then kissed in the dip right between his collarbones. His hands mindlessly went to the hem of Gerard's shirt and lifted it slightly above his navel. Gerard lifted his back up off the mattress and Frank took this as a green light, pulling the shirt up all the way off of Gerard’s head.

“God,” He sat up on top of Gerard, looking down at his pale body. “You’re so pretty.” He whispered.

Gerard laughed, reaching down to tug at the edge of Frank’s shirt, urging it off. Frank noticed and pulled it up off of his body in one swift motion, leaning back down to kiss Gerard’s chest. Gerard ran his hands along his back, feeling the muscle under his skin tense as he swept his hands down his body. He pushed his body up into a sitting position underneath Frank, needing to be on top.

“So pretty.” Frank moaned quietly, allowing Gerard to flip them over so Frank was laid on his back now.

“Hm?” A trail of kisses fell from Gerard’s lips and landed down the middle of his bare torso, stopping just underneath his belly button. He worked his way back up, feeling Frank squirm underneath him, moaning out phrases he could barely understand.

Frank glued his open mouth to Gerard’s neck, holding him by the back of his head, keeping him there. Gerard pulled off and kissed Frank’s lips quickly. From the top of Frank’s collarbones, Gerard started another trail of kisses. Frank immediately felt how hard Gerard was kissing him in contrast to the time before. Gerard was sucking and biting at his skin, and he was loving it. The only thing he wasn’t loving about it was how hard he had to control his urges to scream and moan from the pleasure that was overwhelming his body and channeling itself south.

Gerard’s hand bumped against the protrusion underneath Frank’s loose pants and he lightly pushed his hips up and whined. “You liked that?” Gerard looked up from where he was kissing to Frank. His head pushed back into the pillow and his jaw stretched up.

He dropped his head to nod quickly at Gerard, his face was needy. “Yeah, I really, really do, Gee.” Their hands met and Frank held tight to Gerard’s. “Please keep going.”

A smirk rest itself on Gerard’s face, watching Frank turn himself into putty underneath one of his fingers made himself feel needy, but it was time to focus on _him_. He held the waistband of his pants softly, only tugging them down to reveal the small rise of his hipbones through his skin. Frank attempted to squirm out of them more, but Gerard held him down by his stomach, anchoring him down onto the bed. Gerard gently ran a hand along the length of the bulge that was pushing through Frank’s pants, he pressed a kiss right onto it, making Frank push himself further into the mattress.

“Want me to keep going?” Gerard asked, pulling the elastic waistband down a bit more. Frank responded while a low pitched whine. “Is that a yes?” Gerard teased, running his finger along the length again.

“Yes, fucking yes! Gerard, please.” Frank hissed.

“Ooh,” Gerard sighed. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I want you to do anything and everything you want to do to me.” Frank reached his hand down to pet Gerard’s hair.

“I don’t want to do _everything_ ,” He looked up at Frank, batting his eyelashes, as he pulled the pants down over the bulge, revealing his boxer briefs underneath. “I just want to suck your dick, pumpkin.” He kissed what felt like the tip over the cloth. “Is that alright with you?”

“Fuck!” Frank said a bit too loud, but he didn’t care. “Yes, please, please.” He begged.

Gerard pulled the tight cloth off of Frank’s hips and he sighed at the sudden feeling of contact with the cold air. He licked along the slit, already tasting the precum that was spilling out. Carefully, he took the tip between his lips, sucking gently, feeling Frank struggle to keep his hips from moving wildly and keep himself quiet. The hand that previously laid on his stomach moved up and to cup over Frank’s mouth in an attempt to let him moan like he wanted, but keep it muffled. He immediately let out a small moan, the vibrations trapped by Gerard’s hand drove him crazy, he pushed his own groin into the mattress under them, moaning a bit on Frank’s dick. The response to the vibrations on such a sensitive area was unintentionally bucking his hips up, causing more of the length to push itself into Gerard’s mouth, his teeth softly ran against the skin. Unprepared, Gerard coughed a bit, but managed to quickly adapt and deal with Frank already being in his throat.

Frank definitely wasn’t _small_ by any means, but he wasn’t huge either, Gerard could easily fit Frank’s whole dick in his mouth no problem.He pushed his head down, getting his whole length into his mouth, his nose pressed into Frank’s pubic hair. He swirled his tongue around the base, feeling Frank bite down slightly on the fingers that were pressed up against his mouth. Gerard slowly pulled his mouth off Frank and looked up at him. Sweat collected all along his body, dampening the hair that laid right by his face. Gerard locked his eyes with Frank’s whose eyes cast absolute want and need, like he was silently begging for Gerard to _keep going_. While Gerard’s projected pure, sweet intoxication, Frank felt like he was going to explode right underneath his gaze.

Gerard laid a sweet, soft kiss on the tip once again before working down Frank’s dick, slowly fitting the whole thing in his mouth, meeting the back of his throat. Frank mindlessly ran his hands through Gerard’s hair, attempting to distract himself from the wet, hot mess that was Gerard’s mouth on his dick, working wonders. In the bottom of his stomach it felt that someone had lit a match, as Gerard continued to suck and apply pressure with his tongue, it felt like that same someone dropped the match into the forest. And the forest was _dry._

Frank pulled Gerard’s hand from his mouth. “I’m so close, Gee.” He moaned and Gerard quickly replaced his hand back over his lips. With Frank’s dick still in the back of his throat, he swallowed, his throat closing around it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” Frank tensed his whole body, gripping the bed sheets in tightly closed fists.

“Come on, babe.” Gerard said once his mouth was free. He kissed the skin above Frank’s dick before dropping his mouth on it once again, to finish him off.

“Oh, _god_ .” Frank huffed, arching his back. “ _Gerard_!” He cried.

He felt Frank twitch in his mouth and he quickly pulled back, leaving the tip laid on his tongue and he hollowed his cheeks, waiting for him to empty himself. Gerard removed his hand, wanting to hear the finish, only somewhat caring if it was too loud. A strangled noise came from deep in Frank’s throat right before the pulsing in his dick came out in the form of cum. He melted and his body went limp as he saw stars. Gerard swallowed some of the load before opening his mouth to gasp for air. When he did, a thin stream of cum fell from his mouth onto Frank’s thigh, which brought him back down to earth.

“Oh, you don’t have to swallow that. Just spit it out, it doesn’t matter.” Frank sat up, petting Gerard’s arm.

He spit out the remaining cum on Frank’s pajama pants, not knowing where else to put it. “Sorry,” He laughed, wiping his mouth. Gerard pulled Frank’s pants the rest of the way off, balling them up and tossing them onto the floor.

They flopped back down onto the bed, lying next to each other both panting. Frank’s chest had a thin layer of sweat and his face was flushed. Gerard pushed Frank’s sweaty hair back, looking at his face in the near darkness. Frank leaned off his pillow and kissed Gerard’s mouth.

“Your turn?” Frank asked.

“I’m okay.” Gerard shook his head.

Frank stared at Gerard’s swollen, darkened lips, his fingers gently tracing them as they both slowly lulled off into a deep sleep.


	11. Eleven

Frank jerked his body up in fear, the remembrances of the previous day hadn’t met him yet. Waking up in his own bed had unintentionally become suddenly painfully unfamiliar. Soft blue light that said dawn spilled into his bedroom, giving everything a soft glow. For a moment, he laid re watching the memories from last night play back to him. Suddenly, the reminder that he still had yet to gift his parents the boxes that sat still in the car, waiting to be removed lit up in his head. Careful not to wake the body next to him, he climbed out of bed and found Gerard’s jeans that were piled on the floor and dug through the pockets until his fingers fell onto the car keys. He pulled another pair of pajama pants from the drawer once he remembered why he wasn’t wearing any and crept out of the bedroom. The slight clack noises and quiet, muffled conversation of his parents dressing themselves and getting ready for the day coming from behind their bedroom door somehow excited him and he quickened his pace to make it out the front door.

The locks in the car doors clicked and Frank opened the back passenger door, looking in his backpack he’d brought along. Two small boxes sat stashed underneath a bunched up sweater just where he'd left them. Frank locked the car once again and jogged up the snowy yard back to the front door, the cold air and the feeling of newfound freedom of enjoying being around his parents made him feel new.

“Oh, hey ma.” He almost bumped into her jogging down the hall.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” She rubbed his shoulders. “Why were you outside without a coat, you’re nearly frozen!”

“Went to get clothes.” Frank moved his shoulder to gesture to the backpack sitting on it, the maroon sleeve of the sweater obnoxiously hung out the open zipper.

“Want breakfast? I’ll make whatever you want.” Her voice was sweet and soft.

“Yeah, pancakes? Please?” Frank smiled.

“Sure, baby.” She returned the smile and passed him finally, patting his shoulder as he made his way to the shower.

Warm water came down from the shower head first in spritz and while Frank peeled his clothes off, it evened out and came down in streams. It always had taken the perfect amount of time to switch while Frank undressed. He quickly washed himself, wanting to get his gifts into his parents hands before his father had to depart for the day. Never in a million years would he think he’d be rushing himself in the early morning to catch his own father before he withdrew himself from the house. He jumped out of the shower after a quick coat of lathered soap had been run off his body and he hopped into his clothes. Now in full rush-mode Frank managed to simultaneously comb his hair and brush his teeth. Before he left the humid bathroom, he picked up his bag with the boxes inside and made his way towards the kitchen.

He took a seat across from his father, who had his reading glasses perched on his nose and was skimming over the headlines, waiting for one to catch interest in his eye. His mother already had a stack of pancakes on a plate next to the stove and bacon going in a separate pan. She seemed to be in no rush, but only moments after Frank had settled into the chair of the table, she was already putting together plates.

“Honey, is Gerard awake yet? Will he want to eat?” She paused, four plates in hand.

“No, ma.” He stood up. “I’ll get drinks. He’s not awake yet, but he doesn’t like to eat as soon as he wakes up, it upsets his stomach.”

“Oh, I see.” She smiled, enjoying watching Frank pour juice into separate cups, attempting to keep them all even.

Linda set down plates and silverware in front of Frank Sr. and two empty seats, placing herself next to him and Frank across from them. She eyed his backpack, wondering what it was doing at the table. Before she could go for it, Frank set down the cups of juice, sitting her and himself down to eat. Frank Sr. held his hands out to the two, waiting for them to interlock. He almost had no idea what his father was doing for a second, a year without saying grace before meals put a dent in the eating custom he'd been taught.

Once joined with his wife and son, Frank Sr. began. “Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.” He picked up the syrup from the middle of the table. “Frank, what’s that book bag doing at the table?”

“Oh!” Frank picked it up into his lap. “I have something for you and mom.” The two wrapped boxes were pushed onto the table and separated to their new owners. “I wanted to come for Christmas, but I got really sick so I’m kind of late.”

“Oh, Frank.” His mother held her hand over her heart, looking at him with a look of nothing but compassion. She unwrapped her box first, Frank Sr. wanting to see what hers was before he opened his. She gasped so hard it scared Frank a bit. “Oh my goodness!” She said, breathy. She held up the small, dangly diamond earrings up to her ears. “Are these real?” Frank nodded. “They’re so beautiful, thank you, baby.” She shot up from her chair and walked quickly around the table to drop a kiss on his head. Quickly, she removed her everyday earrings and replaced them with the shiny new ones.

“You deserve them.” He laughed and picked up a piece of bacon, watching his father begin to rip the paper off his gift.

He lifted one eyebrow at the box marked with the same jewelry company logo his wife’s had on the top, but he opened it up carefully with an open mind. He took once glance and shut the box swiftly, a smile spread itself wide across his face, ear to ear.

“It’s so nice, Frank. That's real gold?” Frank nodded in response. “My god, son. How much did that cost you?”

“Let me see!” Linda swiped the box from her husband's hand, now anxious to see what laid inside. A noisy gasp escaped her lips once again and she clutched the box to her chest. “A watch?!” She took another long stare at the jewelry in the box. There laid a gold watch, the clock colored black and the still hands remained white. “This is a beauty, Frank.” She handed the box back over.

Quickly but carefully he clipped the watch onto his wrist, pulling the sleeve of his dress shirt up a bit so everyone in a ten mile radius could get a good look at the new gold watch that laid on his wrist. While he ate, he watched his arm, careful not to get any food on it, being overly conscious of where his wrist was at all times. While Linda ate her food with one hand, the other remained on her ear, running her fingers over the gorgeous, dangling diamonds in her ear.

“Me and your father have some gifts for you too, darling.” She broke the silence. “I haven't had a chance to wrap them, but once I do I want you to have them.”

“Okay.” He smiled, childishly with pancakes filling his mouth.  

Frank Sr. set the time on his new watch carefully, focusing intensely on handling the small knobs on the side with extra care. It turned out to be quite a difficult job for someone with rough, not so careful thumbs. Linda noticed and turned in her seat to use her nimble fingers to perfectly set the time.

“Thank you, hon.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I have to get to work now, I’ll see you two later, alright?” He stood up and made his way around the table to Frank where he dropped his head and kissed the top of Frank’s. “Thank you, son. I can’t say that enough, this is truly the nicest watch I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“No problem, dad.” Frank nodded. “See you after work.” His father picked up his keys and his coat, leaving swiftly for the day.

“What do you have planned for today?” Linda asked, picking up her and her husband’s dirty plates from the table.

“Uh, nothing really. Once Gerard gets up we might go out and look around.” Frank took his own plate to the sink.

“Oh, that’s nice.” She turned on the tap, running water over the sticky plates. “I’m going to do some errands.”

“Can I go?” Frank blurted, eagerly.

“Oh,” She was taken aback. “Yeah, sure.” She smiled, feeling something nice about Frank wanting to go run errands with her.

-

“Groceries, done.” Frank ran a line through the word on the list with a pen. “Next, you have the craft store and the dry cleaners, then home. Are you buying stuff to draw with now that you realize you have a talent?” Frank pulled the seat belt over his body.

Linda laughed. “I’d hardly say _talent._ Maybe hobby.”

“I don’t know, ma.” Frank drug out. “Gerard said you were pretty good.”

“He’s _amazing_ at art. Have you seen his?” She pulled into a parking space. “Truly astounding what that boy can do with a pencil.”

“I’ve seen some of his stuff and its all really good.” Frank followed his mom into the craft store. “What are you getting from here?”

“Gerard said I should get some stuff to get my art off the ground.” She looked around at the vast collection of aisles. “He said a sketchbook, some nice colored pencils, watercolor, pencils, and erasers were all I needed for now.” She found her way down an aisle with a huge collection of sketchbooks.

“He has a huge stack of sketchbooks at home. And he buys a lot of canvases, but they never stay in the apartment. He always takes them to school,” Frank flipped through the pages of a book.”Maybe he’ll bring them back after the semester. You think?”

“I would think so, honey. I’ve never been to art school but they can’t possibly keep _everyone's_ art.” She picked a book and handed it to Frank to hold before craning her neck around looking for pencils.

“Linda!” A shrill voice shrieked and both of their attentions turned to the source of it. Frank recognized her, but he wasn’t sure from where. His mother obviously knew her since he gave the woman a friendly hug.

“Hey, Macy! I haven’t seen you in a while.” She smiled, friendly.

“You haven’t been to church in a while!” The woman continued to smile at Linda. _Church, that’s where she was from._ Her gaze channeled to Frank and she cocked her head to the side, studying his face. “Frank? Is that you? Wherever have you been?!” She gripped him in a too friendly hug. “You’re home now?”

“Uh, yeah I got home yesterday.” Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “No need to beat around the bush, Macy, I _ran_ _away_.” He laughed.

“I heard!” She exhaled, sounding like she was holding her breath while he was speaking. “I’m glad you’re okay, though.”

“We all are,” Linda smiled. “I’ll see you at church.” She called, walking to a different aisle. “God, that woman is insufferable.” She groaned and shook her head, Frank couldn’t help but start laughing at how quick she flipped the switch of friendliness off.

-

“Ooh,” Gerard held the watercolor palette close to his eyes. “These colors are great, nice choice. Also smart buying the normal pencils, the expensive fancy ones are over hyped anyway. They aren't that great.”

“Hey, Gee.” Frank interrupted the art conversation. “Do you wanna go out around town with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Gerard nodded, still eyeing the watercolors. “Wanna go now?” Frank nodded.

“I’ll see you at dinner, ma.” Frank called, pulling a hoodie on. “Love you!” He walked through the front door, meeting the cold face on.

“Where’d you want to go?” Gerard asked, swinging his keys around on his finger.

“Just wanted to walk around and see if anything I liked changed.” Frank started walking down the driveway onto the asphalt. “You want to see?” He looked up at Gerard.

“Yeah, definitely.” He walked close to Frank.

“At the end of the street, across it in that field,” Frank pointed and Gerard squinted in that direction. “See the field?”

“Yeah, why?”

“There’s an old barn there, but no animals ever lived there. It was sort of a legend that witches used to do witchcraft in there because no one was ever brave enough to go in there alone.” They neared the end of the street, the run down, decaying building came into view. “But someone dared me to go in there in like fourth grade and it wasn’t all that bad. I just acted like I was scared so they wouldn’t go in there, I kind of claimed it mine once I saw the inside.”

“Jesus Christ, Iero. _That_ place right there?” Gerard pointed at it. “God, that looks like a haunted house and you weren’t scared.”

“Only the outside is scary, the inside is- oh you’ll see.” Frank quickened his pace, his feet meeting the dead grass of the field.

“I’ll _see_ ? You mean you want me to go _in_ the witch house?” Gerard scoffed. “You must be out of your fucking mind!”

“Don’t be a pussy! I came here a fuckton throughout school, it isn’t scary in there. It's a little scary at night because the windows are boarded up and it creaks.” Frank felt a rush of adrenaline once the house came into close view.

“You went in _there_ at _night_?” Gerard pointed again. “Fuck.”

Frank jogged up to the front door. “You coming in or are you too _scared_?” He teased, pulling open the decaying wooden door.

“ _Yes_ , I’m coming in.” Gerard sighed, walking faster to catch up. He followed Frank in.

The outside shape looked like a tiny house, but inside there were no walls or divisions, it was just one big, open place. The whole thing was made out of dark wood, maybe the wood was only dark because it was super old. Frank gave a fair warning that the ceiling could collapse at any time. Gerard felt uncomfortable at first, feeling out of place and vulnerable in such a wide place with the windows so cruelly boarded up with thick nails. But once he had a nice look around, he could see the comfort in sitting in the corner of this place and reading a book, or drawing something.

“You like it here? Termites might have the last of this place soon, but for now its still Castle Iero.” He pointed above the front door. A small plank of wood with the words ‘ _Castle Iero’_ carved deep in and filled with some sort of black stain was nailed in the wall. “I made that when I was probably twelve.”

“Wow, Frank.” He finally breathed out. “It's oddly so cozy in here.”

“See what I meant? And you were scared to come in here!” Frank laughed. “You wanna go check out some other places?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m not gonna lie, I’m still getting creeped out a little bit.” He started slowly towards the door. Frank swung his arm around Gerard’s shoulder and walked with him across the boards of creaking wood that made up the floor.

“Wanna go to the corner store? I never even said goodbye to my boss or told him I’d be gone.” Frank started walking on the dead grass again, towards the sidewalk.

“To him, you just disappeared out of nowhere?” Gerard asked, stuffing his cold hands into his jacket pockets.

“Yeah,” Frank nodded.”I just disappeared out of nowhere to a lot of people, actually.”

“You didn’t say goodbye to anyone before heading up north?”

“No, I just got on a bus and rode around town for a while. I ended up back around here, then I stayed in that house until I heard about nosy cops poking around for me. When I really did leave, I left at night so no one actually ran into me or anything.” Frank said.

“Oh,” Gerard stated simply. “That corner store?” He pointed.

“That’s the one,” Frank hopped up on the curb, making his way to the door. “After you.” He opened the door and the bell chimed.

Gerard looked around. It felt a little bit crammed in this building, the total opposite of the one before. It almost seemed like the owner had more stuff to sell than he could possibly set out for display, but he evidently found a way to show everything he had for sale. He touched some packs of candy crammed next to each other on a shelf and just looked. A large man sat leaned up against the counter, reading a book through glasses that looked to small for his face. The man looked first at Gerard, then on the back of Frank who was picking out candy. He dropped the glasses onto the counter, squinting with his bare eye, knowing he looked familiar. Once Frank turned and gave the man a side view of his face his voice boomed through the tiny store.

“Frankie! Is that you, kid?” He yelled, pulling his body out from behind the counter to greet him.

“Yup, its me.” Frank laid the candy he had on the counter. “How you been, Benny?”

“How have I been? How have _I been_ ?” Benny exclaimed, hugging Frank tightly and lifting him off the ground an inch or two. “I’ve been worried sick about you, kid. How you been? Where have you been?” He dramatically gestured to Frank’s whole body.

“I’ve been around.” Frank shrugged. “Well, not around here.” Benny burst out laughing. “I ran off that night I worked late. Went up north and I’ve been living there for a while.”

“Woah! What’d you run for? Who’s the friend?” Benny asked.

“Family stuff, you know how it goes.” Benny muttered something that sounded like a ‘'course’. “This is Gerard, met him up there and we’ve been roommates for a while. I’m telling you Benny, it feels like I’ve known him my whole life.”

Benny made his way back behind the counter and threw the candy Frank picked in the bag. “On the house.” He winked. “Hey, G- you say it _Gerard_?” Gerard nodded. “Frank been behaving up there? Kid looks all sunshine and rainbows, don’t get me wrong, he is, but trouble finds him no matter what.”

“He’s been alright, I think. He had some hardships but they’re overcame now.” Gerard nodded, standing next to Frank.

“Hardships? What do you mean hardships?” He raised his eyebrow. “He get sick or what?”

“Got addicted to heroin.” Frank blurted, Benny’s eyebrows went way higher that Frank could ever imagine anyone’s going. “I’m clean now!” He attempted to lighten the blow.

“You what?!” Benny ripped the towel that was laid behind him off the shelf and hit Frank with it a couple times. “You got shit for brains, kid?! What were ya’ thinking? You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He dropped the towel and reached across the counter to touch Frank’s shoulder. “You’ve gotta be pullin’ my leg, Frankie.”

“Wish I could say I was, Benny.” Frank threw his hands up. “Had some ups and downs, but I’m on a straight path now.”

“I sat with him for almost a week watching him get sober off that awful shit, it was brutal.” Gerard said.

“Ugh,” Benny shuttered, thinking about Frank getting off heroin and the bad state it puts people in. “You helped him off?” Gerard nodded. “That’s dedication, Gerard. You got a good friend here, Frank. Glad you finally found someone worth your time.” He smiled at Gerard then bent over to pick up the towel again and hit Frank a few more times.

“Benny, stop!” Frank shielded his face. “I’m clean!”

“It’s great that ya’ clean, kid, don’t get me wrong.” He hit him again. “But it’s the fact that I know you’re fuckin’ smarter,” _Towel slap._ “Than,” _Towel Slap._ “That shit!” _Towel slap._ “Get it?” He was breathing heavily.

“Yes! I get it.” Frank started to laugh. “Jeez, Benny. You violent, motherfucker. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, kiddo.” He ruffled his hair. “Candy’s on me. Before you leave back up north, come say bye to me this time, alright?”

Frank started towards the door. “I will, bye!”

“Nice meeting you, Benny!” Gerard called on his way out.

“You too, Gerard.”

“He’s so loud.” Gerard said finally once they were on the sidewalk again.

“You get used to it after a while.” Frank said flatly.

“Are you guys related? He really cares about you.” Gerard asked, looking at what kind of candy Frank picked out.

“No, I’ve just known him for the longest time. His corner store’s been there since before I was born and I used to go there all the time as a kid and tell him all my problems. Then when I was older he gave me a job.”

“Ah, I see. He’s a really nice guy.” Gerard opened a pack of gummy worms. “Where next?”

“Record shop?” Frank shrugged. “They sell CD’s there too.”

“Cool,” Gerard nodded. “Want some?” He offered him a blue worm.

“Yes, they’re mine anyway.” He laughed, picking the worm out of Gerard’s hand with his mouth. “I haven’t really got a chance to talk to you about this yet because I was with my mom and then you were scared about the witch house and then Benny, but I just really wanted to say that I had a blast last night.”

Gerard’s cheeks flushed red and he looked at Frank, sincerity pooling in his eyes. “I had fun too, Frank. I was hoping you’d say something about it because I was starting to think it didn’t mean anything to you or something.”

“Oh, no! No, Gerard it meant the world to me, I really felt- I don’t know.” Frank stumbled to find the right word. “Special? It made me feel really good, not just physically but emotionally, too. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do.” Gerard smiled, content and pulled more gummy worms out of the bag. “That store?” He pointed across the street.

“That’s the one.” Frank jogged across the asphalt. “Come on, maybe we can find something cool from here. They always have cool new things every time I came in here.” He held the door open, waiting for Gerard to pass through before going in himself.

“Oh, it looks small on the outside.” Gerard looked around, his mouth hung slightly open. “It's huge in here, they must have a million records.” He gravitated to container filled with music he recognized.

“I know, it's like a library in here.” Frank flipped through a catalog of posters they had on sale. “You’ll always find something in here you like.”

“Found a couple things I like already.” Gerard mumbled to himself

“Frank?” A girl asked, the boys turned their attention to her, she was standing awkwardly next to a girl who started digging in the same pile of records Gerard just abandoned. Her hands gripped self consciously to the tops of her arms. “Where have you been?”

“Hi, Kitty.” Frank whispered, making his way to her with open arms. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Did you run away?” She hugged him, getting engulfed in his familiar scent and she let herself sink into it. He nodded against her shoulder. “Frank, I’ve missed you so much. Fuck you, for leaving.” She held him against herself harder.

“What’s up?” The girl who was with Kitty popped her gum at Gerard.

The noise made him recoil. “Not much.” He pointed at the two hugging. “I’m not from here, who’s Kitty?”

“You with Frank?” She picked up a record and started reading the back of it.

“Yeah.” He breathed out.

“That’s Katrina,” She pointed at the girl. “Kitty for short, Frank’s fake ex-girlfriend. I’m Bea, Kitty’s girlfriend, who are you?”

“I’m Gerard.” He introduced himself.

“Gerard!” Frank exclaimed, a huge smile on his face. “This is Kitty, my fake ex.” His eye caught Bea. “Who are you?”

“Hey,” She nodded at him. “I’m Bea, her girlfriend.”

“You got a girlfriend?!” His eyes went wide at Kitty and she excitedly nodded. “That’s Gerard, my boyfriend.” He introduced him.

“He’s pretty,” Kitty gave Gerard a quick hug. “Are you guys down to chill at my house? I want to catch up and we’ve got nothing to do.”

“You wanna go, Gee?” Frank asked and Gerard nodded.

-

Gerard struggled to reach for the blunt that was being passed around the small group, his bottom was sank so low into the beanbag. He took a small puff, careful to not choke and embarrass himself like he had the first time. Bea reached for the blunt once Gerard had taken his second hit and he gracefully gave it away.

“So I brought him over for Christmas,” Kitty took a small drink out of the whiskey bottle. “And while we’re posing for pictures, my grandma asks for a picture of me and Frank.” She started to laugh at the memory and Frank joined her, reaching for the whiskey. “And instead of just posing with a smile, he does a kiss on the cheek thing. It looked so awkward!”

“Your grandma pretended it wasn’t awful, but they way she looked at me, I think she knew, in that moment, I wasn’t straight.” He tipped the neck of the bottle back into his mouth.

“Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen that!” Gerard laughed, imagining Frank forcing something like that.

“Kitty has it around here somewhere, I’ve seen that picture before.” Bea stood up, starting to search the room for the picture.

“Oh, my god. Don’t find it, Bea.” Frank’s face shriveled into a cringe.

Bea squat down and hummed, digging through a box sat in the closet. “Yup!” She held a polaroid up above her head. “Found it!” She looked at it, sitting back down.

Kitty snatched it out of her hand and covered her mouth, laughing sadly. “This is even more awkward looking than I remember. Oh, Frank.”

“Give that to me!” He plucked it from her fingers. “Oh,” He held it face down to his chest after a fast glance. “My god. I’m feeling that Christmas embarrassment all over again.” He fanned his face with the picture.

“I wanna see!” Gerard pulled it from his hand. “Frank!” The group all nodded, agreeing with his tone of voice. Empathy mixed with second hand embarrassment and the guilt of wanting to laugh at him. “It’s kind of cute if you look at it real close.” Gerard stared at Frank in the picture. His hair was cropped a bit shorter than it was now and he had a few more pounds stacked on him. It was obvious on his face that he’d been hiding something, Gerard could tell and he figured everyone else from that part of his life could tell too.

“He’s cute, but what he did isn’t.” Bea sank down further into her beanbag. “It's a bad picture, but the concept was cute.”

“She’s right,” Frank said in an exhale of smoke. “That’s probably the worst picture of me in existence.”

“You guys in college?” Bea tipped the whiskey at her lips.

“I am. Art school.” Gerard held the blunt between his fingers.

“You, Frank?” Kitty asked. “I always thought you’d become a scientist or something.”

“No, I’m not in school.” Frank shook his head.

“Oh, you were always talking about stars and space and stuff.” She held the whiskey while she talked, Gerard was intrigued, learning something about Frank. “Have you ever heard him talk about stars, Gerard?” She asked him.

“Once or twice, but not a lot. Why?” He passed the blunt to Bea.

“He used to _constantly_ talk about space and galaxies and the stars. He had a space magazine subscription, he really knows his stuff.” She leaned forward to hand Frank the bottle.

“I’m focusing on my music, right now, Kitty.” He stated, matter of factly. “I’m not good enough at math to become an astrophysicist. Anyway, Gerard got me in with some guys who want a guitar player in their band. I’m trying out once I get back.”

“Oh, really?” She raised an eyebrow, pulling the blunt from Bea’s hand who was attempting to take her fourth hit. “Frank used to constantly talk about music too. He was so good at guitar, definitely still is.”

“What kind of band is it?” Bea asked.

“Bunch of punk guys.” Gerard said, whiskey freshly coating the inside of his mouth.

“When you know the date of the first show, let us know. We’ll show up, right K?” She gestured to herself and Kitty.

“Sure will, Frank.” She smiled sweetly, hugging the whiskey to her chest.

“What if I don’t get in the band?” Frank shrugged.

“Don't say that,” Gerard said, starting to feel the alcohol in his brain. He cut himself off. “I’ve only ever heard you play bass, but you were fucking great at that. If you’re half as good at guitar as you are at bass, any other guitarist that tries out has nothing on you.”

“You got a bass?” Kitty’s eyes widened. “You gotta let me hear you sometime.”

“No, I didn’t get a bass. His brother has one and he let me play on his. But if I do get a bass don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know.” He tried to pass the bottle to Gerard, but he waved his hand no and Frank passed it up to Bea.

“Shit, Frank!” Kitty said, looking behind her at the clock. “Didn’t you say you were going home for dinner? It’s almost six, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Oh, fuck. Does anyone have gum?” He pushed himself up off the beanbag, petting his pockets for a pack. Gerard held his hand up and Frank pulled him up. Bea stood up easily and pulled Kitty up.

“You got gum from Benny, remember?” Gerard slurred, searching the floor for the bag.

“Oh, no." He stared at Gerard. His eyes flicked to Kitty's and Bea's, who were silently thinking the same thing. "He’s a lightweight and he drank as much as the rest of us.” Frank rubbed his face.

“Come on,” Bea pulled Gerard out of the bedroom. “I’ll do my best to sober him up any that I can and I’ll drive you guys home, okay?”

“Thanks, Bea. You’re a lifesaver.” Frank picked up the bags, looking for his gum.

“Here,” Kitty handed him the pack after taking her own piece of spearmint. “What?” She said after he looked at her funny. “I have parents too, you know. I can't have whiskey breath.” She pouted as she chewed her gum.

“I gotta get home,” Frank said, pulling his hoodie over his head and picking up Gerard’s coat. Kitty followed him into the kitchen where Bea was holding a glass of water up to Gerard’s lips and he held a cracker in his limp hand.

“I only need another second for the coffee that he’s gonna drink then we’ll go.” She turned to the coffee pot.

“You don’t have to rush, Bea.” Frank sat down in the bar stool next to Gerard. “Fuck, you look high.” He turned to Kitty. “You have eye drops?”

“Oh, good idea.” She turned and skipped down the hall. Gerard laid his head on the granite counter and Frank stroked his hair. “Got it, here!” She tossed the bottle to Frank.

He caught it easily. “Gerard, tilt your head back.” He tipped his head back with his index finger on his chin. “Open your eyes, _wide_ , Gee. And relax.” He dropped three drops in each eye. “Just blink.” Bea slid a mug in front of him. “And drink your coffee.”

“No problem.” Gerard slurred at started to chug the coffee. He set it down with a small clink after a moment of gulping, empty and brought the cracker up to his mouth. “Pumpkin, when I stop talking like this, can we go eat at your house? Linda was a lasagna, she told me.” He mumbled.

“Yes, eat some crackers and finish the water.” Frank told him and he heavily nodded.

“You want to go now, he’ll probably be good in a minute.” Bea asked, gripping her car keys. "He drank that whole mug in like, a second."

“Yeah,” Frank tilted his head back, dropping the serum in his own eyes. “Let’s go, Gee.” He pulled his coat over his shoulder, watching him sway slightly as he walked.

“Bea, you drank more than me.” He criticized.

“The difference between you and me, Gerard." She held onto his hand to guide him as he walked down the steep driveway. “Is I can hold my alcohol better. It's no flaw, just a difference.” She cleared up once she saw him thinking too hard about it.

“Oh,” He climbed into the backseat. “Alright then.”

“He’s already talking better.” Kitty smiled and slid into the passenger seat.

Once Frank slipped into the backseat alongside Gerard, he laid his head in his lap. Not from fatigue, but from just wanting to be close and comfortable. Frank held Gerard’s head with one hand on his jaw and the other petting his hair. Gerard traced letters of words that Frank couldn’t decipher on his thigh, but he could tell that he had ended the written sentence with the outline of a heart. He laid his head on the headrest, paying extra attention to the pressure of the words being written above his knee. Before he knew it, Bea had parked in his parents’ driveway.

“You good, Gee?” He whispered, lifting his head up. Bea and Kitty turned around in their seats, anticipating his answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He spoke clearly, gaining a collective exhale of relaxation from all three of them.

“Alright, come on.” He opened the car door and slid out. “Bye, Kitty, nice seeing you. Bye, Bea, it was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” She said out of her rolled down window. Frank could see Kitty wave goodbye from the passenger seat.

“I liked meeting you both!” Gerard said excitedly. “I hope to see you two again soon!”

“Me too.” Bea laughed. “Bye guys, see you later.” She pulled out onto the street and sped away.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Gerard asked walking beside Frank.

“Shoot.”

“Do you still have feelings for Kitty?”

“Hm,” Frank froze with his hand on the knob, collecting his thoughts. “I guess so. But it’s not feelings so strong I _want_ to  date her or anything. I like being her friend, I don't want more than that.” He turned the knob. “I like being with you a lot.” He pressed a quick kiss to his nose before pushing the door open, the aroma of the meal still cooking hit both of them.

Gerard smiled, not sure if the dopey feeling was from happiness or from the dope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all so so much for reading my story. you're all so lovely :-)


	12. Twelve

Frank laid his heavy head on a sweater stuffed into a ball and pressed against the car window, once again, he had drifted of into light sleep. Gerard looked into the rear view mirror, seeing Frank’s town rapidly disappear behind them, but the guitar that laid on the backseat carried a piece of it that would come home with them. He sighed and relaxed against the seat listening to the soft noise of a podcast coming from the radio. He enjoyed hearing them talk to one another, but didn't bother to listen to what they were discussing. Gerard rushed down the surface streets to get onto a highway in a hurry, to face the long drive home.

Loneliness of being alone with the road and few passing cars kept his mind busy. Thoughts and fresh memories of the past weekend ran through his head so fast he could barely catch up with them. Being plunged into Frank’s life before him was a real experience, meeting his parents, seeing his bedroom as it was left, meeting his friends, and seeing his hideaways made him feel fused to Frank. As if it was more than a simple friendship, or more than if they were just ‘temporary roommates’. Panic began to flood his whole body at the thought that Frank had decided they were only friends or merely roommates. Then why had he referred to Gerard as his ‘boyfriend’ when introducing him to Kitty and Bea? He shook his hair out quickly, attempting to rid the assumptions of Frank’s feelings for him that was being made in his own mind. The lonely stretch of the highway didn’t seem to allow him to keep hurtful assumptions out of his mind and he began to feel irritated with himself and begin to squirm in his seat, the emotional annoyance managed to manifest itself into physical discomfort. As if on queue, Frank started fidgeting in his seat, waking up and stretching his legs the best he could.

“Frank?” Gerard blurted. “Can I ask you something real quick?”

He rubbed his eyes and tiredly moaned. “Yeah, what is it?”

“When we met Kitty and Bea you called me your, um," He felt his face flush. "Your _boyfriend_ , but you never really said anything about it after. Were you just saying that or what?” He nervously gripped tighter onto the steering wheel.

“You’re asking me if we’re boyfriends?” Frank poked Gerard in the shoulder and giggled. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” Gerard swallowed through a dry throat.

“Well, I thought you’d wanna be my boyfriend. Since you went down on me and you seem to like me a lot. I really like you too, Gee.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Was it wrong to call you my boyfriend? You didn’t like that?” He retracted his hand, feeling self conscious about touching Gerard all of the sudden.

“No, I liked it!” He glanced at Frank. “I just didn’t know if you were just saying that because Kitty had a girlfriend.” His gaze returned to the road. “And you just had me.”

“ _Just_ you. My _boyfriend._ Sure, it wasn’t official or anything then, but I think we both knew what we were after that night.” He extended his arm and touched Gerard’s shoulder once again, deeming it safe and wanted.

“Frank, my _boyfriend_.” He said to himself, holding down a grin. “That sounds nice.”

Frank touched Gerard's neck and he felt goosebumps rise on his arm. "Mhm," His eyes studied the side of Gerard's face and he yawned. "Gerard, my pretty boyfriend." He touched the ends of his hair. "My boyfriend, Gerard, needs to get a haircut."

"What? Why do you say that?" Gerard gasped, touching his hair.

"You've got split ends, sweetheart." Frank combed his hand through a lock of hair. "I like your hair, don't worry." His face stretched into a yawn once again.

"Oh," He smiled. "I thought you were saying it was too long." He returned his hand onto the steering wheel. "You look tired, you should go back to sleep for now." 

He yawned. “You’ll be okay if I go back to sleep? I am pretty tired.” His hand traveled down Gerard’s arm and landed at his hand.

He took his hand off the wheel once again and carefully interlocked his fingers with Frank’s. “Get some rest, pumpkin.” Frank curled his body in the direction of Gerard, keeping their locked hands against his body. Gerard could feel the steady rising and falling of Frank's chest on his fingers.

Small snores filled the car in place of the radio and Gerard preferred it over any music that would be playing on air. Frank’s soft features seemed to melt into each other smoothly and he wanted nothing more than to pull over and copy the lines of his face into a sketchbook, but he didn’t. Knowing how badly Frank wanted to get back into their apartment made Gerard keep going. The image got copied into his brain and he saved it, promising himself he’d sketch out the image once they were home.

Gerard got a bit too comfortable in his situation, the open road in front of him, Frank holding onto his hand, the small bursts of warm air from Frank's nostrils blowing against the otherwise cold skin of his hand was soothing, and he’d began to feel a bit tired himself. His eyes felt heavy and a bit droopy, the wide open space with no distractions didn't help at all. Switching lanes barely kept his focus alive, but he knew it'd get old after a while. Luckily, just in time to save him before he fell asleep at the wheel, his phone began to ring and vibrate in his pocket. He carefully removed his hand from Frank’s and pulled the phone out of his pants pocket. Without looking at the caller id, he lifted it to his ear.

“Hello?” 

“Gerard!” The voice blared out of the other side. “Is the guitarist you know ever gonna set up a meeting? I'm not trying to be pushy or anything, but I think me and the guys want to meet him soon.”

He set the phone in between his ear and his shoulder and shook Frank awake. “Hey, _Eugene_!” He emphasized the name, letting Frank know who was on the line. “You wanna set up a meeting with Frank?”

“Oh, shit.” Frank said quietly. He cleared his throat and attempted to swallow the tiredness in his voice before holding his hand out to reach for the phone. He flexed his fingers like a child grabbing for something. "Give it to me, please."

“If Frank is the guitarist, then yup.” He said simply.

“He’s actually here with me, I’ll give him the phone so you guys can sort it yourselves.” He handed him the phone with raised eyebrows. 

Frank hastily took it out of his hand. “Hey, Eugene? This is Frank, sorry I haven't been able to meet, I was out of town for a while. Anyway, when are you free to meet me?”

“Any time before school starts back up again. I’ll be free until then.”

“Cool, man. I’m getting home today from a family visit, but I can meet you tomorrow? Hows that?”

“Sure, what time?”

“Uh,” Frank rolled his head, thinking of an appropriate time. “Four? Five?” He cringed at how uncertain he sounded.

“Cool, I’ll text Gerard my address, just tell me when you get here and I'll let you in or whatever. Bring your own guitar, but you don't need to bring an amp. Cool with you?"

"Yeah, sure. That sounds perfect." Frank flicked his eyes to the guitar in the back seat.

"See you, tomorrow.”

“See you then.” The line clicked dead and Frank sighed, the phone still pressed to the side of his face. “I gotta try out tomorrow.” He pouted.

Gerard laughed. “You set it up, pumpkin. You’ll be fine, if you practice at home, you’ll nail it.” He held Frank’s face by his jaw and leaned over to press a kiss on his forehead.

“I guess so." Frank slumped down further into his seat.

"I know so." Gerard petted his head.

"How much longer?” He sat up in his seat and looked around at his surroundings, yawning again.

“An hour and a half.” Gerard ruffled Frank’s hair. “Halfway there.”

“I’m too nervous to go back to sleep now.” Frank pushed his body back up to sit upright on the seat. “Wanna play I Spy with me?”

"I Spy?" Gerard asked, not knowing if Frank was serious.

"Yeah, I Spy." He motioned with his hands. "I describe something I see and you have to guess what it is. You know what game I'm talking about, Gee?" He looked at him with a confused look on his face.

"I wanna play." Gerard said simply and smiled, waiting for Frank to pick something.

-

“Our street!” Frank pointed at the tall apartment building getting nearer and nearer. “Thank god, I have to pee so bad!” He unbuckled his seat belt prematurely and scooted forward, perching himself on the edge of the seat.

“Slow down,” Gerard laughed. “We aren’t even there yet. Why didn't you piss at the gas station?”

"I didn't have to pee then." Frank said, bouncing his leg up and down. "I have to pee now."

"Fair enough." Gerard nodded.

“I wanna get inside!” Frank fidgeted in his seat, pulling his sweatshirt over his head, preparing to get out of the car.

Gerard sped up slightly and quickly came to the building the two resided in. He pulled the car around the corner behind the building, into the parking garage and found his empty parking space. As soon as the car had halted to a slow and steady stop, Frank had hopped out of the car and began collecting his items to take inside. Gerard held his bag and swung Frank’s backpack over his shoulder, making his way over to him. Frank stood outside the backseat passenger door, whining and complaining about not being able to figure out how to carry in all his stuff without ruining something.

“Oh!” He held out his hand. “Let me see my backpack.” He carefully placed his amp chords, headphones, and a jacket inside before zipping it back up and allowing Gerard to carry it on his shoulders. Frank then held the guitar by the neck in one hand and the amp by the handle in another, content with his situation. He backed up and shut the door before quickly making his way back around the tall building towards the front doors.

“God, it's cold.” Gerard said to himself, eyeing the slow sunset happening before him. He adverted his eyes and hastily made his way inside, somewhat regretting stuffing his jacket in the bag with the rest of his clothes, shivering. Quickly, he tailed Frank, who leaned his head on his shoulder in the elevator despite how abnormally crowded it was.

Frank waited, bouncing on his toes, for Gerard to unlock the door and let them inside. The lock clicked and he followed Gerard inside, ignoring Fungus who quickly took to smothering their legs. Quickly, but cautiously, Frank set down his guitar and amp to go into the bathroom and release the wait he’d held in for an hour. With clean, wet hands, he exited the bathroom to find Gerard laid on the bed on his back, his feet still planted on the ground, his eyes were open and his chest rose and fell softly and smoothly. Frank tiptoed over to his body and stood between his open legs, craning his neck to stare into Gerard’s relaxed face. Gerard looked back at Frank’s face and remembered he’d promised himself a sketch of his face.

“Oh!” Gerard pulled himself off the bed, getting close to Frank’s body. He pushed past and squatted down to pull a sketchbook out of a pile of art supplies left on the floor and looked at Frank’s face. He looked both amused and confused at the same time.

“What are you doing?” He dropped himself onto the bed, bouncing slightly, and sighing in relief when he made contact with the bed sheets.

“I just remembered that I wanted to draw you.” He leaned back down in search for a pencil.

“Oh,” Frank kicked his shoes off and pulled his shirt over his head, leaving his torso bare. “Should I pose?” He grinned.

“Frank,” Gerard sat on the bed next to Frank’s head. “Just lay there and do  _not_ pose for me, I want it to look as natural as possible.”

“How am I not supposed to pose?” Frank threw his hands up. “It’s like you’re taking a picture of me.” Fungus jumped up onto the bed and laid her head and front paws on Frank’s chest, purring. He dropped his hand softly on her head to pet her. "A long ass picture."

“You look good, Frank.” Gerard commented, scratching lines on his paper. “I think this week did a lot of good for you.”

“You think so? Look at my stomach,” He poked the soft skin of his belly. “It’s not all caved in anymore like it used to be. Do you think I gained weight?”

“Hm,” Gerard studied his stomach, it looked expanded, but in a healthy way. It looked like he was starting to gain back a bit of the weight heroin chipped off him. “It looks like it.” He flicked his eyes back to the paper, copying the lines and curves of his body.

“Do I look fat?” Frank fake pouted, stifling a laugh.

Gerard poked him in the stomach with the pencil eraser. “No, you look fine. Beautiful, honestly!” He shook his head, smiling. “Stay still! You look different every time I look at you.”

Frank bumped his nose against Fungus’ cold, wet nose. “How long do I have to lay here?”

“Not long, if you fuckin’ stop moving.” Gerard carefully constructed the shape and details of Frank’s face against the paper.

“Fine,” Frank situated himself against the sheets, sighing and closing his eyes. “There.”

Gerard squinted at his relaxed body, sprawled out on the mattress. He copied Frank’s figure quickly, each detail hit his eye and begged to be put down before he was halfway done with the last. Even the cat had relaxed herself on Frank’s body and stayed still, allowing Gerard to include her on the page whether she knew it or not. A rough sketch had been configured and he meticulously darkened the lines he decided to keep and began erasing the ones he wouldn't mind leaving behind. Frank felt the need to stretch, but he repressed it, doing it deed to stay still for Gerard. 

He added the soft details of  Frank's face and felt a bit annoyed when it took him multiple tries to get the curve of his nose right. Every time he drew a line at the bridge of his nose, it made his face look completely unfamiliar. When he did get it just right he sighed in final relief, causing Frank to look up at him and change his natural pose. Of course, Gerard scolded him and Frank did his best to mold himself the way he thought he looked before he moved around, disturbing Gerard's artistic process. The soft scratching of the pencil against the paper filled the room as Gerard added quick details like the way Frank's hair fell around his ears. Or the way his hands laid on his chest, rising up and down along with his chest. He included the small marks on Frank's side where his ribs still poked out of the skin, but not as severely as before. It ended right past the curve of his sharp hipbone, and he shaded in the cat easily, deciding she wasn't as important as the focus of the composition.

“Done.” He held the drawing up to look at. Frank sat up and took it out of his hand. “It’s not that good, I need to fix a few things." He watched Frank stare at it and began to feel exposed. "It's just a rough sketch, nothing that special."

“Wow,” Frank breathed out in amazement. Gerard had painstakingly constructed an accurate drawing in such a short time span. The shape of Frank’s body looked accurate and he stared at the profile of his resting face. “It looks like me, exactly like me.” He brought it closer to his face, even the fur on Fungus looked realistic. “This is amazing, Gee.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, becoming flustered.

“You’re really good at what you do.” Frank handed him back the book.

Gerard crawled to where Frank was propped up on his elbows and laid back down. “When are you gonna show me how good you are at what you do?”

Frank leaned down and pressed their lips together. “Mm, maybe later.” He lowered his face onto Gerard’s again, deepening the kiss this time. Gerard lifted his hands to the back of Frank’s neck and held onto him, pulling him farther down onto his body. He climbed up onto Gerard’s body and relaxed against it, still connected to him at the lips. Frank held himself up with his elbows planted on the bed next to either side of Gerard’s face, leaving their chests pressed up against each other and their legs intertwined. Their lips worked together until Frank inserted his tongue into Gerard’s mouth, perfectly invading his space. Gerard opened his mouth, silently begging for more and Frank rolled off his body, laying his head on his chest over his heart.

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked, running his hands through Frank’s fluffed hair.

“I wanna take a nap,” He said, yawning. “I’m tired, are you? I've been tired _all day long_.” His eyes went droopy and he nestled his head into Gerard’s side and hugged him softly.

Gerard curved his body slightly over Frank and wrapped one arm around him. “I'm very tired.” He yawned and shut his eyes, relying on the sound of Frank’s soft breathing to put him to sleep.

-

Gerard awoke alone in his dark room, surrounded by warmth trapped between his body and the heavy blanket. The moon peered through the curtains brightly and met his eyes. He clumsily felt around the bed looking for Frank, but he wasn’t there. A pillow was stuffed into his side as a replacement. He tossed the pillow away from his body and pulled himself off of the bed, making his way into the living room.

“Frank?” He said with a groggy voice. He cleared his throat. “Frank, are you here?” Still no answer.

His mouth stretched into a yawn and he stretched his arms above his head, exposing a strip of pale stomach skin. Lowering his arms, he continued looking around the small apartment, figuring if he was here, he couldn’t have gone far. Quiet noises of guitar strings being plucked filled his ears as he neared the extra empty room and he pushed on the door, cracking it open. Frank sat on the floor next to the amp, his guitar in his lap and his head hung over it, focusing intently on every finger move. Gerard slinked into the room carefully and watched Frank play for the short time he didn’t notice him there.

“Oh,” He pulled the headphones off his head. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“I wasn’t there for long. I just woke up.” Gerard sat down on the opposite side of the room from Frank. “How long have you been in here? Playing?”

“I’m not sure.” He laughed. “What time is it?”

Gerard glanced at his watch and squinted at the small, flicking hands. “Almost one.”

“Fuck,” Frank sat up onto his knees, attempting to stretch his back. “I woke up at ten and came in here and just started playing.” His spine made popping noises and he groaned, feeling tension from slouching for so long get released.

“Can I hear?” Gerard’s eyes lit up and he scooted closer to Frank.

“Uh, sure.” He unplugged the headphones and turned the volume dial down. “I’m not that good, fair warning.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, not believing Frank was not good at guitar for a second. Frank settled himself back down onto the floor off his knees and held the guitar close to his body. The first few notes Frank played made Gerard’s heart jump, they sounded a bit familiar to him, but he couldn’t place them. As he progressed through the song, it stopped sounding familiar, but he genuinely liked it. Gerard watched his fingers move swiftly and knowledgeably along the fret board, each individual digit knowing exactly what to do and where to press to play the song. Frank began mumbling words, which took Gerard a bit by surprise. He couldn’t understand the majority of what words he was carrying through the tune, but he did catch a few. Gerard could tell Frank wasn’t the singing type, he didn’t look comfortable using his voice over the guitar, but he did it anyway to bring the song together. That was what made him like Frank’s voice. Both of them knew he was no Freddie Mercury, but the passion that he placed in the words made it sound good. Though Gerard wasn't able to catch the majority of the words Frank was mumbling, he could tell he meant what he was singing.

“And,” Frank finished dragging the last note out. “That’s about it, it isn't finished.”

“What song is that? It doesn’t sound familiar.” Gerard propped his elbows on the sides on his knees and held his face.

Frank pulled the guitar off his lap and laid it down next to him, he stretched out his legs, groaning. “It’s my song, I wrote it and everything.” He yawned. “That’s why it isn’t familiar.”

“I like it, I really do.” Gerard looked into his eyes. “I would want to hear that song again once its finished.”

“You mean it?” Frank’s mouth burst into a toothy grin.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “You have talent, I know you did.”

“Oh,” Frank reached out and softly pushed Gerard’s shoulders. “Shut up.” He struggled to pull himself up onto his feet with sore legs from being stuffed under him for hours on end. He held out a hand for Gerard to pull himself up with.

“You shut up.” Gerard giggled and gripped onto Frank’s outstretched hand, pulling himself up and standing next to him.

He wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck and rested his hands on his chest. Frank began to walk out of the room and Gerard held onto him still. Frank stood in front of the open fridge, picking at a bunch of grapes. Gerard rested his head on Frank’s shoulder, watching his hands pull grapes off their stems. Frank picked off a grape and held it to Gerard’s lips and popped it in his mouth for him. Gerard smiled and dropped his hands, holding onto Frank’s waist as he fed the both of them grapes. He opened the container of orange juice and drank from the container. Before twisting the lid back on and closing it, he held in front of Gerard’s face.

“Want some?” He offered him the bottle. 

“No,” He shook his head. “You just had your mouth all over it. I can’t believe you just drank from the container.”

“Uh,” Frank scoffed, his mouth hung open in annoyance and confusion. “I had my mouth all over you before you passed out and you didn’t have a problem with that.” He took one last drink from the juice before twisting the cap back on and digging further into the fridge.

“Yeah, but the orange juice isn’t your boyfriend.” Gerard leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“That doesn't make any sense.” Frank laughed, opening the freezer. He turned his face around and kissed Gerard’s nose before looking in the freezer. “Will you make a note to buy popsicles next time someone goes shopping.” Frank asked, closing the freezer door and making his way to the toaster.

“Will do.” He followed, his arms still wrapped tightly around Frank’s smaller frame. He watched him put bread into the toaster and didn’t mind waiting for it with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading my story (my apologies for the longer wait for an update, i just started school this week. but i promise to do my best to get this story finished) :'))))))) ur all so so lovely


	13. Thirteen

Frank fidgeted in the passenger seat of the car, adjusting his shirt collar, the seatbelt, and his hair over and over. He looked behind him at the slick guitar lying across the back seats and he sighed, praying to whoever was listening that his mind would quiet down so he could play adequately enough for the band. For the millionth, maybe even billionth time- he’d lost count- he checked his pocket to feel if his guitar pick was still stuck inside.

“Frank?” Gerard said cautiously, pulling up to the house, the garage door wide open and the guys sat inside. “You alright?”

“Shit, just nervous.” He whispered, pulling the door handle to get out of the car and swinging around the back to pull the guitar out. “Don’t fail me now, old friend.” He said to the instrument, grabbing it by the neck. “Come on, Gee.” He waved his hand for Gerard to stay close by.

“Hey, Frank!” Eugene yelled and stood up off the couch, waving. “Nice guitar, man. Wanna come hook it up to the amp and show us what you've got?”

“Yeah, cool.” Frank walked into the garage, locating the amplifier.

“What's up, man?” Someone who he'd never seen before greeted him. “I'm Zip. I play drums.”

“Hey Zip,” Frank nodded at him, plugging in his guitar. “I'm Frank.”

“Cool, cool.” Zip started twisting the knobs on the amp. “That's Morty,” he pointed at the guy asleep on a lawn chair. “We call him Moat for short.” Frank looked up to wave, but noticed he was asleep.

“What's up, man.” Frank set his guitar down and properly greeted Zip. “This is Gerard, he's my boyfriend.”

Gerard smiled slightly and gave a small wave to the group. “Hey guys.”

“Hey, man. Nice hair.” Zip waved to Gerard. “What are you nervous for?” He bellowed with a huge smile. “I can already tell you play good, don't sweat it man.” He sat back down on the couch and started tapping his thigh with a drum stick.

“You can already tell?” Frank sighed and sat next to Zip.

“Yeah, dude! You've got the _face_ of a great guitar player.” Zip squeezed Frank's cheeks with his hand.

He shook his face out of his hand and laughed. “Alright, whatever you say.”

“You're an art major?” Zip asked Gerard.

“Yeah.” He leaned against the wall.

“You could design our merch!” He laughed. “I bet you'd make the coolest shirts!”

“Leave him alone, Zip!” Eugene pointed a finger. “Don't push that on him. Sorry, he's a little, forward. He's been up my ass too to design merch, but we aren't even a full band yet.”

“No that's alright. I think it'd be pretty cool to design merch.”

“Yeah?” Zip practically squealed. “Got any ideas right now?”

“Hm,” Gerard hummed, looking for any ideas. “I'd definitely have to know your guys’ sound first.”

Zip jumped up off the couch. “I can play right now! Get up, Moat!” He slapped his leg and Moat sat up groaning. “We're playing! Frank you wanna join in?”

“Sure, but what do I play?” He stood up, holding the back of his neck.

“Uh,” Zip sat in his drum seat. “Just feel it. None of us really know what to play if I'm being honest.”

“He's right. Just listen for a sec and you'll figure it out.” He ran his fingers through a mess of sandy colored hair sitting atop his head. “Hey, I'm Morty. Moat for short.” He patted Frank's shoulder as he passed him to get to his bass.

“I'm Frank.” He pulled the strap over his head.

“Guitar guy?” He carefully tuned his bass by ear.

“That's me.”

“Cool.” He nodded and pulled his own strap over his head. “I'm the bass.”

“Ready?” Zip called out eagerly, bouncing his leg.

The group agreed collectively once the guitars were tuned and Eugene had readied his voice. Gerard sat on the couch.

“Alright Frank you good to feel it?” Zip laughed.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled, closing his eyes to listen.

Zip counted to four, hitting his sticks together and then let out a loud groan before starting to hit his drums. Moat kept his eyes shut and swayed as he plucked the thick strings of his instrument systematically. Eugene bounced on his toes as he sung into the microphone. Frank smiled, liking their sound and began plucking his own strings and playing chords that sounded like they'd fit. The wild smile that spread across Zip’s face let Frank know he was doing something right.

“Breaks coming up, Frank!” Zip managed to yell over the noise of the band. “Bring it down slow and carry it out!” He slowed down on his drum hits, moving his head with the beat.

Frank carefully played dragged out chords, making it successfully to the slowed down part of the song. He saw Moat give a small grin and hold his fingers over his strings over the bridge. Eugene brought his voice out slowly and brought it up loud again. Moat hit his strings hard and Frank joined. Zip banged on his drums wildly and bounced heavily on his seat.

“Frank that was good!” Eugene said quickly into the mic.

Frank's eyes fell on Gerard who was smiling, his eyes wide at Frank's ability to adapt so well to the band. Despite a few slips of notes Frank played, it sounded good. He sounded like he fit. Frank stumbled towards the end, not knowing how the song stopped, but he made it through. Once Frank's last note rang out, Zip hit his guitar one last time and let out a deep exhale. Gerard started to clap and sprung off the couch to stand in front of Frank.

“I thought that sounded so good, guys!” He gripped Frank's shoulders and shook him a bit before throwing his arm around his shoulders. “Didn't you guys think so?!”

“I thought it was good!” Zip rested his back against the wall, still sitting on his drum stool, a small amount of sweat accumulated on his forehead.

“You did good, Frank.” Moat smiled, setting down his bass and making his way back over to the lawn chair.

“That sounded great, man.” Eugene high fived Frank. “You wanna hang out here for a while. We were gonna order some food.”

“Yeah!” Zip threw his arms up, springing out of his seat. “You guys should stay!”

“You wanna stay?” Frank turned to ask Gerard.

“Yeah, okay.” He smiled and held onto Frank's waist, making his way over to the couch again.

-

Frank sat on the couch staring at the TV. Gerard laid on the next to him, his head on Frank's knee that wasn't bouncing. He laid his hand softly on his bouncing knee and Frank laid his own hand on top. However, the movement didn't stop.

“What's the matter?” He looked up.

“Uh, just nervous.” Frank swallowed.

“Your hand is clammy.” Gerard locked their fingers together. “Your hands don't get clammy when you're nervous.” He squeezed his fingers. “They just get hot and sweaty.”

“I'm,” Frank cleared his throat. “I’m just really nervous, alright?”

“Tell me? What's really the matter?” Gerard reached up to touch his face with his free hand.

“Fine, don't get mad.” Frank took a deep breath and sunk into the couch cushion, his leg relaxing. “I'm just-” he sighed. “Feeling like I wanna get high. Really bad- I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh.” Gerard sat up next to him. “I'm not mad, pumpkin. It's okay.” He stroked his face. “It's normal, you just have to pull through. You wanna do something to get your mind off it?”

“Like what?” He laid his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“Mm, I don't know.” Gerard copied him. “Go see a movie? Go out to eat? Go shopping?”

“No, I'm too tired.” Frank let his head fall onto Gerard's shoulder. “I don't like this feeling, Gee.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I'm here though. And I won't let you do anything stupid.”

Frank's leg started blanching again and he groaned. “I hate this!”

“Come on, get up.” He said and stood up off the couch himself. Frank obeyed. “I can't watch you like this. I know you're tired, so we won't go out.” Gerard thought for a moment. “You should go practice your guitar. Think about that. Make a new song, practice and old one. Write music. Do something other than mope.”

“Oh,” Frank's eyes lit up. “Yeah good idea.” He made his way quickly into the office. “I should put some stuff together for the band.” His voice drowned out as he closed the door behind him.

Gerard sat on the floor in the living room, listening to the soft sound of frank strumming in the office a few feet away. His sketchbook sat in his lap and he mindlessly drew facial features he wanted to try out. Rounded noses, big eyes, and soft chin instead of the sharp facial features he’d normally put down. He was beginning to grow tired of angled noses and sunken eyes. Quickly, the realization that he was doodling facial features Frank had set in, but he kept going. Keeping them as real and close to the real thing as he possibly could. Suddenly, the strumming stopped and he flipped to an empty page, quickly sketching out vines and leaves, feeling embarrassed that he had a page full of Frank’s face. Frank moped over a few feet away from Gerard, then lowered himself to his knees and crawled the rest of the way.

“Gee?” He said softly, placing himself between Gerard’s legs and placing light kisses on his neck and chest. “I was just thinking about you a lot..” He laid his open mouth on Gerard's neck and began sucking with no hesitation.

“Oh yeah?” Goosebumps arose on Gerard’s arms. “About what?” He tossed his book to the side and wrapped his arms around Frank’s back.

He moaned. “Blowing you.”

“Oh,” Gerard nervously smiled. “You want to?”

Frank nodded into his neck. “If you wanna.”

“Oh, jeez.” Frank pressed his knee into Gerard’s groin. “Yeah, I do. I really do want you to.” He gripped onto him harder.

Frank raised his head and pressed his lips to Gerard’s once before lifting his shirt up over his head. He lowered his head on his bare chest and left a slow moving trail of kisses down from the middle of his collarbones to his bellybutton. Gerard’s breath hitched when Frank’s lips contacted with the skin under his belly button, right above the button of his jeans. He slowly unbuttoned them, making Gerard a bit restless under his touch. He laid a kiss under where the button had previously pressed into his skin. Then he slowly, but surely pulled the zipper of his jeans open, revealing the gray underwear that laid under his jeans. Gerard threw his head back and relaxed himself on his elbows, feeling a lot of tension already building up in his hips and stomach.

Frank tugged Gerard’s jeans off his hips and pulled them down to the middle of his thighs eagerly, not wanting to waste any time. The bulge contained by his boxers seemed to be stretching the fabric more and more, looking to get bigger with every touch Frank laid with his fingertips. He messily laid kisses on the bulge, not thinking about where to apply pressure, just putting it everywhere. Gerard seemed to like it, so he was satisfied. His fingers timidly curled over the waistband, pulling slightly. Gerard pushed his hips up, whining quietly.

Frank pulled the waistband down, letting Gerard spill out over his clothing. He took it in his hand and began to jack him off, reaching his head up for another kiss. He softly licked the tip, then put the whole head in his mouth, swirling his tongue around his dick. Gerard squirmed underneath him, reaching out to tangle his fingers in his hair. Frank lowered his mouth down the length of Gerard’s dick as far as he could go and he lifted his head off it, gasping for air. Gerard stroked his face, watching him catch his breath then lower his head once again. He went fast and hard, sucking with all his might and lifting his head up and down rapidly, not taking any breaks, just wanting to see Gerard cum.

“Is that okay?” Frank asked, catching his breath. “Am I doing alright?”

“It’s so fucking good, Frank.” Gerard moaned, his hand laid above his crotch. He reached down and lifted Frank to his face by his shirt collar and up to his lips. Frank allowed himself to be lifted up and he closed his lips around Gerard’s, feeling the flutter of butterflies fill his stomach.

“You’re so pretty.” Frank complimented him, one hand still wrapped around his dick and the other cupped on his face. “So, so pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous.” Gerard pressed his lips to his forehead.

Frank felt his face flush red and he lowered himself back to Gerard’s waist, with a tight-lipped smile. Not wanting to wait any longer, Frank quickly dropped his mouth back onto Gerard’s dick, flattening his tongue around it while he hollowed out his cheeks and swallowed. Gerard pushed his hips slightly up, then back down, careful not to push too far into Frank’s mouth. Frank lifted his free hand up to Gerard’s bare torso and ran his hands from his chest to his stomach, feeling his warm skin and the bumpy rise and fall of his breath.

“I’m close. Oh, god.” Gerard breathed out.

Frank pulled off and he whined. He lifted his head up to Gerard’s and kissed him deeply, Gerard gripped onto Frank’s body trying to hold him closer, but Frank broke the kiss and went back down with intent to finish Gerard off. He started slow and kept going slow, forcing himself to spend time now, not to rush things. Focus on every little movement from Gerard’s body and cherish this moment, remember it.

He carefully placed and moved his tongue, keeping it slow, but also pushed it down with a lot of pressure. Gerard bucked his hips and Frank held him down with both hands. Gerard covered his face and moaned loud, as his dick twitched. Frank closed his mouth around the tip and let the cum drip into his mouth. The taste almost made him spit it out, but he swallowed it, all of it. Gerard dropped his head onto the floor and tried to even out his breath.

“Come here.” Gerard held his arm out to Frank. He let out a sigh as Frank curled up next to him, his arm wrapped around his back. “How do you feel? Any better?”

“Yeah, actually.” Frank smiled. He traced his finger around Gerard’s soft chest. “I do. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great.” Gerard kissed the top of his head. “Pretty tired now actually.”

“Me too.” Frank yawned and pushed himself off the floor. “Bedtime?” He held out his hand.

“Definitely.” Gerard gripped his hand and pulled himself up off the floor, following Frank to the bed.

-

Frank flinched himself awake, hearing the obnoxious ringing of his cell phone. He reached over Gerard’s head and pulled his phone off the nightstand, pressing the button to answer the call.

“Hello?” He groggily said into the phone.

“Hey Frank, did I wake you up?” Eugene said into the mic.

“Yeah, but I needed to get up anyway. What’s up?” He pulled the blanket up to his chin.

“Oh, well, I was just calling to make sure you wanted to be our guitar player. We all really like you and we think you’d be a great fit.”

“Really?!” Frank smiled wide. “Yeah, man. Of course I wanna be in the band. That’s fucking fantastic.”

Gerard rolled over in the bed to face Frank. “What’s going on?” He asked, his eyes still closed.

“Cool,” Eugene laughed on the other end. “We booked a show a little over two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, Frank. You good with that?”

“Sure thing, man. Sounds good to me.” He swallowed.

“Alright, awesome. I’ll text you the next practice date. See you later.”

“See you then.” Frank said, hearing the line click dead.

“What was that?” Gerard reached out and touched Frank’s bare chest, his finger landing over his collarbone.

“Eugene.” Frank inched closer to Gerard. “I’m in the band. We have a show in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” His eyebrows flew up. “Wow, I’m proud of you, Frank. That’s so cool.”

“Oh!” He picked his phone up again. “I gotta tell my dad.” He dialed the number clumsily and lifted the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?” His gruff voice barked on the other end.

“Hey pops, it’s me, Frank.”

“Oh, Frank! Hey kiddo,” His voice got further away. “Lin! It’s Frank.” It sounded like he muffled the sound by covering the speaker with his hand and Frank laughed. “What’s going on?”

“I just called to tell you I’m in the band and we got a show in two weeks.” Frank mindlessly ran his fingers over Gerard’s arm.

“You know the date? I wanna see you play.”

“No, I don’t know the exact date, but once I find out,.I’ll tell you.”

“Okay. Good luck, kid.” He said sincerely. “See you there. I’ve gotta get to work now, but be sure to remember to tell your old man when to show up, alright?”

“Sure thing, pops.” Frank smiled. “Bye.”

“Congrats, Frank.” He said before the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello thank you for reading my story :-))))))))))  
> my apologies for the longer waits for updates but school has been wilde  
> i feel like this chapter is just kind of advancing the plot and is kind of boring and i wanna get past this part and into the better stuff so i feel like more updates are to come sooner than they have been.  
> anyway thank u so so so much to anyone who reads my story i appreciate every single one of you :-)))))))


	14. Fourteen

“Hey pumpkin!” Gerard called into the dim apartment as he walked through the door, shaking his jacket off. “I got dinner!” The lack of response made him sigh, but quickly he heard the strumming of strings and realized the silence wasn't because he was being ignored, frank just couldn’t hear him. He set the bag of food down on the counter and made his way over to the office. “Frank!” He yelled and waved his hands around, hoping to get through the sound of the guitar.

Frank’s gaze shot up at Gerard standing in the doorway and he flinched. “Oh!” He pulled the headphones off his head and pushed his guitar to the side, shooting up off the floor. “You scared me.” He wrapped his arms around Gerard’s neck and kissed his cheek. “Did you just get home?”

“Yeah, I did.” Gerard brushed Frank’s hair to the side with his fingers. “Are you hungry? I got food.”

“Oh, I’m starving! Thanks, Gee.” He skipped into the small kitchen and peered into the bag. “Nice.” He said to himself, pulling boxes out of the bag.

“I wanted chinese and I was gonna ask you, but you didn’t answer your phone.” Gerard said, pulling forks out of the drawer.

‘Oh, shit. Sorry, Gee. I guess I just didn’t hear it.” He pulled two cups out of the cabinet. “What do you wanna drink?”

“That's alright, I went to the place you like. Just water.” Gerard pushed the containers onto the counter in front of him and made his way towards the plates. He pulled them out of the cabinet while Frank filled the glasses with drinks. They both made their ways around the counter and sat next to each other on the stools, emptying food onto their plates. Gerard sighed as he sank into the chair, slouching sadly and began to push pieces of chicken around with his fork..

“Oh, Gee,” Frank laid a hand on his back. “What’s the matter?” He asked through a mouth full of food.

“Mm, nothing.” Gerard mumbled.

“Liar, spit it out. I wanna know who’s ass I need to kick.” Frank rubbed his hand around in a big circle on Gerard’s back.

His mouth flicked up into a smile and he laughed softly. “It’s really nothing, Frank.”

“Talk to me.” Frank groaned. “Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me. It’s something- it’s bothering you and I wanna know if you’re alright.”

“Well,” He swallowed and wiped his hands on his pants. “First of all, I just got the news that we have a huge project due at the end of the semester and I was thinking I would make mine huge. But I’m not sure where I’d get the supplies for a canvas that large.” He sighed and rubbed his face, beginning to immediately feel the release of tension he was holding all day. “Or if I’ll even have the money to pay for it.”

“How big?” Frank asked. “It can’t be that huge.”

“Eighteen by twenty-two.” Gerard looked at him. “I talked to some people who major in that sort of thing and they said they’d do it for two hundred fucking dollars.”

“Fuck! I know eighteen by twenty two inch would be big, but not big enough to cost that much. Gee, I could probably find you something like that around, you shouldn't stress too much about it. I’ll get you your canvas.” He shoveled rice into his mouth.

“Frank, you sweetheart. You have no idea.” He looked at him with hazy eyes, loving everything about him right now.

“What?” He said with a mouthful of food, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Eighteen by twenty-two _feet_ , pumpkin. Not inches.” He sighed and rested his head on his hand, continuing to push his food around with his fork.

Frank choked on his water. “Fe-et? Not in-inches?” He coughed out. “Gee,”

“I know, it’s huge, but I think I can do it.” Gerard shoved his fork into his mouth, the feeling of an empty stomach bothering him too much now.

“I know you can do it, but that’s huge. I just got surprised thinking about how big the thing will look in real life.” Frank sat back against his seat, finishing the last bit of his food. “I can't wait to see what you come up with.” He touched Gerard’s hair. “Did anything else happen?”

“Yes,” He moped and his voice shook.

“Take it easy, babe.” He felt Gerard start to tense up. “Don’t get caught up in what already happened. You’re safe now, alright?” Gerard nodded. “Talk to me?”

“Yeah, okay. Well,” He pushed his plate away from him. “I talked to Ellie, the lady who deals with all the funds for our class, and she said we wouldn't have enough money to pay for all my paint I’d need and everyone else’s. But some people are doing sculptures and glass blowing, or-or paper mache shit, not everyone is painting a canvas!” He sank down further into his seat. “I’m gonna have to pay for the paint too, which I guess is reasonable if I bought some, but she told me it’d be best if I just bought all my own. Then everyone in the class was talking about my project. Saying I wouldn’t be able to pull it off and it would go wrong. Just because I’ve only done small scale canvases, doesn’t mean I can’t do this.” His eyes glazed over with hot tears and he dropped his hands in his face. “God,” He looked back up at Frank. “Do you think I can do it? Should I just back out and stay with small canvases?” His voice shook as tears collected on his waterline, threatening to fall.

“You can do it.” Frank kept his gaze strong. “You _can_ do it, you _won’t_ back out, and it _will_ look fucking amazing.” He scooted his chair closer and Gerard rested his head on Frank’s shoulder. “Who gives a shit what those pretentious assholes think of you and your art, they don’t know you, Gee. Make them eat and choke on their fucking words.” Gerard started laughing into Frank’s neck that was now hot and wet with tears.

“Thanks, pumpkin.” He sat up and sighed, wiping the tears off his face. “How's the music going?” Gerard asked still wiping at his eyes. “Got anything good?”

Frank nodded his head. “Yeah, I have, probably, I think three different songs on guitar. I’m using some of my old stuff, but I did make some new stuff. I’m also thinking about showing some of my lyrics. But I don’t know yet.” He shrugged, lifting his glass to his mouth.

“Oh, wow! Frank,” He swallowed. “I wanna hear your songs if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Frank nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I was actually gonna ask you to listen to them and tell me if they’re good or not.” He smiled shyly, the napkin still pressed to the corner of his mouth.

“I bet they’re all great.” Gerard scooted his chair even closer to Frank’s.

“How’s your art going? Not the project, but just- drawing stuff. I haven’t seen any lately.” Frank asked, furrowing his brows with concern.

“I’ve been trying out a new style and lately, it's all just been sketches because I’m not really in my comfort zone with it yet. But I can feel that really soon I’ll be able to do something with it.” Gerard lifted his glass up to his mouth.

“A new style? Like what?” Frank asked.

“Here, let me show you.” Gerard hopped off the chair and walked around the counter where his bag laid. He dug through and pulled his small sketchbook out. “Okay,” He hopped back up into the chair, flipping through pages. “See how that guy looks sharp and everything looks intense?”

“Yeah,” Frank’s eyes flew wildly over the page.

“Well, that’s old.” Gerard flipped through more pages, abruptly stopping at one. “Look here. This is what I’m trying now.”

“It looks, softer.” Frank chewed. “Calmer, kind of.”

“Yeah, see this guy has softer edges and the colors aren't so bright and invasive. It all just kind of melts together. He ran his fingers over the lines.

“I like both.” Frank said, his eyes still gliding over the illustration. “They look really different from each other, I didn’t know artists could change the way they drew, what about their style?”

“Well, I think when something important happens to an artist,” Gerard put a piece of food in his mouth. “They start to make art differently than before based on their mood.” He chewed.

“Oh,” Frank thought for a second. “Why are you changing yours then?”

“Because of you. You kind of made everything in my life feel softer, I guess.” His cheeks flushed red. “Life feels different with you?”

“In a good way?” Frank worried.

“Of course, in a good way!” Gerard smiled, showing his teeth. “I don’t know how to explain it, but everything feels- kind of-” Gerard made a noise in the back of his throat, not being able to place a word for what he was feeling. “At ease? Yeah! At ease. You know?”

“I feel the same!” Frank’s eyes went wide. “I get what you mean.”

“You do?” Gerard sighed, relieved.

“Yeah, the tone of my writing kind of changed. It's kind of subtle and you have to see how I wrote before I met you, but there’s definitely a change.”

“For the better, I hope.” Gerard poked food with his fork.

“Mhm,” Frank said into his glass. “The feel you get from it is-uh,” He tried to think of a word. “I don’t know. Just feels more positive overall.”

-

Frank’s eyes stung, but he had no desire to stop now and go to bed. He stared at the clock on the wall, trying to decipher the time. The numbers the hands were pointing to didn’t make sense in his head, but he noticed the big hands were two spaces away than they were placed last time he looked up that the clock. Two, two what? _Two hours_. It finally processed in his mind and he felt a sense of accomplishment as he looked down at his notebook page, covered in guitar riffs and words. Across from him, sat Gerard, in the desk chair, hunched over his sketchbook. For hours on end he sat penciling in lines, erasing, coloring spaces in, and starting new pages once one was filled up. He watched him for a moment and he carefully sketched out a line, his bottom lip sat between his teeth as he concentrated. Gerard’s mouth stretched into a yawn and he held one hand over his mouth while the other hand continued to cover a piece of the art in pencil.

“Gee?” Frank unplugged the cord from his guitar. “I think we should go to bed, it’s really late and we both have shit to do tomorrow.”

Gerard looked up the clock, yawning again. “Yeah, you’re right.” He shut his sketchbook and stood up out of the chair. “Come on.” He held his hands out for Frank to grab. “Oh, wait!” He  dropped his hands and sat down in front of Frank.

“What?” He looked at him, confused.

“If you aren’t too tired, would you play me something?” His tired eyes were glazed and tinted a slight red and drooped while they stared back at Frank.

He nodded slowly. “Of course, here.” He handed him the headphones. “You okay like that?”

“Mhm,” Gerard smiled. He began biting on his thumbnail and he stared at the floor underneath him, waiting for Frank to start playing.

Once he hit the first note, Gerard’s eyes shut and he let out a deep exhale, his shoulders falling down as his breath fell out. Frank continued to pluck the individual strings, unable to hear the product, but he knew it sounded the way he wanted it to; slow, sweet, atmospheric, and engulfing. His hands wrapped around the round headphones that hugged his ears and he pushed on them, cancelling out any outside noise. Though there was none, it felt like the proper thing to do. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly and he got goosebumps as the song swam to its end. His eyes snapped open and his gaze flew and met Frank's, and they stared at each other in the silence, only slight feedback filled Gerard's ears, Frank sat in the silence and listened to his own heartbeat in his ears.

“W- uh, what did you think?” He pushed his guitar off his lap. “H-how bad was it?” A nervous laugh escaped him.

“No! It was-” Gerard tore the headphones off his head. “It was so good, I-” He smiled wide. “It was fantastic! I've never heard anything like it, it was like the sound wrapped around my whole body.”

“You liked it?” Frank's mouth stretched into an involuntary smile, his cheeks flooding pink as he began to feel flustered. “Uh, I didn't think it was that good. It still needs work, probably.” He scratched at the back of his neck.

“I don't think it needs work, I really, really love how that sounded.” Gerard reached out to touch Frank's face. “By the way, you've really been looking healthier lately.”

Frank's face filled with even more red pigment and he pushed Gerard's hand away, giggling. “Shut up,”

“No, I mean it, Frank.” Gerard stood up and stretched. “This whole week, you've looked really good. I don't know exactly what you looked like before, but I think it's safe to say you're starting to look like yourself.” He held a hand out for Frank to pull himself up with. He clicked the amp off and grabbed onto Gerard's hand, standing up.

“I feel like myself again. Well- better than myself. I feel like I'm really thriving here, Gee.” Frank followed him out of the room, still holding onto his hand.

“I think so too, I'm really excited to see you play on Friday.” Gerard clicked the light off as they left the room.

“I'm fucking excited too.” Frank laughed, his stomach fluttering with the thought. “I'm also fucking nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” Gerard clicked the light to the bedroom on and made his way towards the bed.

“Well, if I mess up. Or if the crowd hates me. I'm afraid I'll blow it.” Frank picked out two pairs of pajama pants and tossed one to Gerard.

He let it fall on him as he pulled his jeans off his legs. “I think you'll do fine, pumpkin.” He grunted as he pulled the pants off his ankles. “You've really been practicing so much, it'll pay off.”

Frank pulled his shirt off his head. “You think so?” He clicked the light back off.

Gerard slid under the blanket. “I know so. Don't worry so much, it's gonna go great.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. I'm probably just psyching myself out.” Frank yawned and let his face fall into the pillow.

-

“Frank!” Zip screamed and flew off the couch as soon as his eyes fell on Gerard's car pulling up to the driveway.

“Is that Zip?” Gerard said as he put the car in park.

“Guess he likes me,” Frank giggled and opened the door. “Come on, Gee.” He pulled his guitar out. “Stop fucking yelling, Zip!” He yelled.

“You stop yelling!” He yelled back. “Hey Gerard!”

Gerard raised his eyebrows as he locked his car. “Hey Zip, how've you been.”

“Oh, I've been alright. Pretty excited for the show, aren't you?!”

“Do you have to be yelling all the damn time?” Moat asked, the lip of a beer bottle pushing against his teeth.

“Do you have to be so _boring_ all the time?” He ruffled his hair as he walked past him.

“What's worse, Eugene?” Moat hit his shoulder. “Always quiet or always yelling?”

“Hm,” He sighed. “You two balance each other out, not really one is better than the other. You two go really well together.”

“You hear that, Morty?” He leaned in close to Moat’s face. “We complete each other.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He pushed him off, laughing. “God, you're so annoying.” He sank further into the couch.

Gerard sat in a recliner that was placed near the couch and Frank melted into the lawn chair he'd seen Moat in last time.

“How's the project going, Gerard?” Eugene asked. “I heard about it and it sounds like a huge job.”

“Oh yeah,” Gerard laughed. “No one thinks I'm able to do it because it's so big.”

“Do what? What is it?” Zip asked, sitting up quickly.

“Oh,” Gerard sat up. “Well I'm doing a painting for my end of the semester project. And I'm making it eighteen feet tall and twenty two feet wide.”

“Feet?” Moat gasped. “Holy fuck.”

“Goddamn dude. I'll fucking pray for you or something.” Zip said, putting his hands behind his head.

“I think you can do it.” Eugene nodded. “You've worked so much small scale things, but if you do a grid, it shouldn't be too hard.”

“Exactly what I was thinking! I was just gonna grid it out small.” Gerard nodded.

“What the fuck is gridding?” Zip spit.

“You make a grid on a small picture, then make a big grid to make the small picture bigger.” Moat explained, earning only a small _‘ah’_ from Zip.

“Hey Gerard,” Zip said. “Did you think about merch? Because I've been talking to this guy who does shirts and I was just wondering if you thought anything up.”

“I actually have been thinking up some concepts, but I need to know your guys’ name.” Gerard said. “You guys do have a name, right?”

“Uh,” Zip said in a high pitched whine.

“No, no one wants to talk about that.” Moat said, easily.

“Oh, well any ideas for that?” Gerard asked the four boys.

“I thought of Copious Adrenaline! But nobody likes it.” Zip pouted.

“Any other chemical would sound way cooler, don't you guys think?” Moat said, leaning his head onto the head cushion of the couch.

“Dopamine?” Frank suggested, biting his fingernails mindlessly.

“Copious Dopamine.” Eugene said for the group to hear.

“Mm,” Zip scrunched his face up. “That's not quite right.” His hand mindlessly roamed up to where Moat’s head rested and his fingers fell into his hair, beginning to brush through it.

“Profuse?” Moat suggested.

“Really Moat?” Zip smirked. “Copious Profuse?” He scoffed.

“No, you fucking airhead.” He laughed. “Profuse Dopamine!”

“Oh,” Zip bit his lip before he began to wildly nod his head. “Yeah I like that a lot! Can we use that?”

“I think it sounds cool.” Gerard agreed.

“I'm in.” Frank said.

“Me too.” Eugene nodded.

“Nice,” Zip smiled to himself. “Guys, what songs are we playing? At the show?”

“Frank, did you figure out the guitar stuff?” Eugene asked.

“Yeah I did,” Frank nodded, pulling himself off the lawnchair. “Wanna hear it?”

“We're all ears.” Moat said, beginning to feel tired from Zip’s hands roaming through his hair.

“Cool,” Frank plugged the guitar into the amp. He sat down on the floor and closed his eyes, trying to remember everything he made and wrote down the past few days. “I have a few, actually.” He said before he began plucking strings.

Beginning with a more upbeat, though angry sounding song seemed like the way to go. This was the song he'd written closest to the band's sound and he wanted to get off on a good foot. He noticed Moat’s foot tapping along silently whole Zip obnoxiously moved his whole body to the beat. Frank closed his eyes again, getting distracted being the last thing he wanted to do. Coming close to the end always had an almost suppressed rushed sort of feel to Frank, he wanted to finish the song quickly, but consistently made himself wait each time and make each note count on its own.

“That's the uh, the first one.” Frank said.

“Nice!” Zip yelled and began to clap, the three others quickly fell in his footsteps and applauded Frank. He whistled. “So cool!”

“What's the next one, Frank?” Moat asked.

A mood drop wouldn't be so severe now, he decided. The high spirits could handle a somber collection of guitar notes. He began plucking the stringers and Gerard's heart jumped, recognizing the song. He closed his eyes again, allowing the song to wrap itself around him the second time around. After a few more notes were rung out of the amp, it didn't fail to cover Gerard. Frank opened his eyes for a quick peek at the group. Eugene stared at his own relaxed hands, Moat looked at the ceiling, Zip bounced his leg with his eyes closed, and Gerard sat still, breathing softly and steadily with his eyes closed. Before he knew it, he'd hit the last string.

“No way,” Moat breathed out. “That's really fucking good, man. It doesn't have the same sad pull as sad songs, it has a friendly, miserable pull and I fucking _dig_ it.”

“That's the most I've ever heard you say.” Gerard mumbled to himself.

“Really good.” Eugene gave a thumbs up.

“Fucking _amazing_. I don't even have- I'm speechless!” Zip threw his hands up. “I love it. I wanna develop that fucking song first.”

“Calm down,” Moat said, feeling his hand tense up against his head and attempted to soothe him. “Got any words with that?”

“I've got a whole mess of words at home, but I don't think anything I've written can go with this, is it cool if I leave that up for you guys?” Frank leaned his back against the amp.

“Super cool,” Moat rubbed his hands together. “I gotta go, though, guys.” He said, glancing at his watch. “I have an early shift tomorrow and I don't wanna be exhausted.”

“It's only eight.” Zip said, sadly.

“Ten hours of sleep is my bare minimum.” He told him, lifting himself off the couch. “I'll see you guys later. Practice tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Eugene yelled as he left the garage. “See you then.”

“Bye, goodnight!” Zip yelled, waving at Moat as he hopped on his bike and sped away.

“I better get going too. I have to be at work early too.” Frank said standing up. “You ready, Gee?”

“Yeah, sure.” He stood up off the recliner and helped Frank removed his guitar from the amp.

“Bye guys.” He waved and Zip flew up off the couch, suffocating him in a hug.

“See you, Frank!” He let him go and waved as he watched him leave.

Frank couldn’t help but laugh to himself while loading in his guitar when he heard Zip laugh evilly and tell Eugene ‘ _And then there were two.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im rlly excited about where this story is headed soon and i rlly hope you guys are too. (also tysssssm to anyone who has supported or will support or supports my story ily all ssssm)


	15. Fifteen

Frank paced around the living room, feeling worry rise in his chest along with the feeling of an awful wave of craving. He bit on his knuckle, glancing at his watch, counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds he had until it was time to go and play his show. _Nine hours, forty two minutes, and 34 seconds._ Regret of leaving work early flooded through him now that he had absolutely nothing to do except think. A small trickle of restlessness began falling down from the top of his head as he began chewing on his fingernails. It quickly turned into a steady stream, soaking every piece of him in its path, then it turned into a whole river, filling him up where he was empty. Frank hopped up in the air a few times, attempting to shake loose the feeling- begging to find something to do. Practicing was out of the question. Of course he wanted to, desperately wanted to, but the nerves were too intense for him to do anything like that. He worried it would be this bad at the show. Would he be able to stop trembling enough to play the correct notes? Or would he mess up right off the bat? Maybe if he had just a little something to take the edge off. Just something to soothe his nerves a little bit. Then maybe things would go a bit smoother. He reached down into his pocket and pulled his phone out, already knowing who he was gonna call.

He bounced on his toes nervously as the line rang.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded confused.

"Gee? I- uh, I know its a lot to ask, but can you come home a little earlier?" Frank's voice sounded feeble and guilt hit his chest.

"Yeah, I can. Why are you home already? I thought you went to work." Gerard said, sounding like he was already packing his things up to leave school.

"I did, but I came home early. I felt too nervous about the show so my boss let me go. I shouldn't have went home though, I've just been sitting here the last twenty minutes, drowning in my own fear." He said, falling onto the couch.

"You're okay, pumpkin." Gerard said, pushing through the classroom door. "I'm on my way now and I'll be home in no time. Do you want me to bring you anything?" Gerard asked.

"No, just get home quick." Frank fidgeted with his fingers. “Please.”

"Okay, I will. See you in a minute, pumpkin." Gerard said before the line went dead.

"See you." Frank said sadly into the dial tone.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to keep drugs off his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was go out and buy drugs, but it was also what he wanted to do more than anything. Just a little bit, the smallest bit would help so much and it wouldn't even be so bad, he thought to himself. He rubbed his clammy hands on his thighs and cleared his throat, the antsy, restless feeling of being sober was becoming more and more unbearable. Sounds in the apartment sounded louder, more annoying than before and he groaned, shoving his face under a couch pillow. The sound of Fungus slightly purring while she laid resting on the stool in the kitchen made Frank cringe, the sound of the drips from the faucet reached his ears in a way that it had never before and it felt almost painful to listen to. Every small sound hit his eardrums with a pounding force and it hurt. His eyes burned with frustrated tears and he pulled the couch pillows over his head, attempting harder and harder to keep the sound out. He held onto his head, trying harder and harder to make it sound proof, but nothing worked. A sharp pain stabbed him in both temples and a throbbing ache soon began in the same places.

"Pumpkin?" Gerard said softly into the apartment. "Are you okay?" The small noise of his voice hit Frank's eardrums like a ton of bricks, but it didn't hurt. It felt warm.

"Gerard!" He launched himself off the couch. "What took you so long?" He led him by the hand to the couch.

"Its only been a few minutes since you called me. What's the matter?" He held the back of his hand to Frank's forehead.

"I'm not sick, just really nervous." Frank pushed his hand off his head. "I was just getting more and more worked up being alone."

"Oh," Gerard sighed. "I'm glad, I thought you were getting the flu or something." He pulled his sketchbook out of his bag and leaned his back against the couch. "Do you need to practice before the show or anything?"

"No, I don't feel like it. I still have a few hours before the show anyway, I'll just practice later." He sighed, sinking into the cushion, feeling himself melt into his exhaustion now that he could relax with Gerard around to keep him out of trouble. He didn’t want to go anywhere anymore, he didn’t want to move. He just wanted a nap.

"Are you tired?" Gerard asked, flipping through the pages of his sketchbook, trying to find the one he was drawing on when Frank called him home.

He yawned. "I guess so. Wake me up by seven please?" Frank asked, his eyes drooping far down.

"Of course." Gerard stroked his arm, feeling the tension leave his body along with his consciousness.

-

Frank held onto the neck of his guitar extra tight as he walked through the doors of the backstage of the venue, fearing it would slip out of his fingers. The room his band was assigned to was cramped and smelled like mold and sweat. The couch looked sad, it sagged down and drooped in the middle, looking like it was near collapsing. Miscellaneous patches were sewed into parts of the couch, looking like the only pieces keeping the piece of furniture from tearing right in half. Moat sat on the floor with his legs extended, crossed over each other, a cigarette laid between his lips. Zip paced back and forth from one low wall to the adjacent one, mumbling to himself, occasionally raising his voice, frustrated. Eugene sat on the arm of the couch, humming out the lyrics of their songs they were to perform. Gerard made like Moat and took a seat on the floor, too scared to sit on the couch.

“Wouldn’t sit on that couch if I was you. Or put your guitar on there.” Zip said, his index finger in his mouth, biting the dead skin off the sides of his fingernails.

“I feel you, man. It looks like it has a piss stain on that cushion.” Frank grimaced and leaned in for a closer look.

“Ah! Hey, Zip.” Moat waved him over and Zip crouched down in front of him. “Z, don’t chew your nails, stop before you bleed, alright?”

“Oh, fucking shit, motherfucker, you’re right.” He looked at his hand, barely noticing the damage he’d done to his own hand. “Fuck, Moat,” He complained. “It’s already bleeding a little.” He stuck his finger close to his face, showing the dot of blood growing out of the small hole he chewed next to his nail.

“Here,” Moat said, reaching in his pocket and digging around. He sucked in smoke from the stick, the burning end lit his face in the dingy room and he exhaled as he removed his hand from his pocket, bringing a band-aid with it. He unwrapped it and stuck it around Zip’s finger, catching the blood on the small pad.

“Thanks, Moat.” He said and began pacing again, absent-mindedly starting to chew on his other fingers and fingernails out of nerves.

“Why does he do that?” Gerard asked, pointing to Zip, who wasn’t listening.

“Who knows?” Moat shrugged. “He’s a nervous, hyper dude. We think he has OCD or something, but he's too scared to go get diagnosed so we just let him be for now. We do the best we can to help out however.”

“Who’s OCD?” Zip asked, feeling his heart jump at the word. “You talking about me?”

“Your hands.” Moat said and Zip ripped them from his mouth. “Yeah, we’re talking about you, but you’re free to join in whenever.”

“It’s okay, Zip. Don’t get too worked up, you’re gonna be great out there..” Gerard said.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous about playing.” Zip looked down at Gerard.

“You’re gonna do fine.” Moat said. “Just keep your cool and don’t think about it too much. You’re a natural.” He stubbed his finished cigarette into the sidewalk floor and pulled another one from the carton he had.

“Profuse Dopamine?” The venue owner stuck his head in the door. “You guys are on in like three minutes, just a heads up. Pay attention for the other band’s exit.”

“Fuck!” Zip yelled and started biting his nails again.

“Gee, I’m nervous as fuck. I feel like I’m going to puke.” Frank bounced his leg.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, everything is going to go fine. When you leave that stage, you’re gonna feel so good in what you did. I promise.” Gerard ran his hand through Frank’s hair.

“Guys,” Moat said, gathering their attention. “The other band is off. It’s us now. Lets go.” He stood up and walked confidently through the tight hall onto the stage.

Frank followed, feeling his heart beating hard. The stage was dark, the lights turned off in transition. He plugged his guitar in to the left stage amp and Moat took the right stage. Zip set his drum stool down and hit the drums with his sticks, testing the unfamiliar set. The crowd yelled, not knowing who they were. Not caring- just being happy to be here. That eased Frank’s mind a bit and he strummed his guitar, picking each string to make sure it was in tune.

“Good?” Eugene asked each member before giving a thumbs up to the light guy he was unable to see.

The bright lights were turned on and the boys were now fully exposed to the crowd. Frank looked at their faces, most of them looked eager and excited to hear their band, much made him extremely nervous and calmed at the same time.

“We are Copious Dopamine and we are fucking stoked to be up here!” Eugene said into the mic. The crowd yelled, cheering for them without even knowing them. Frank laughed, feeling comfortable on stage. “This is our bassist Moat. If he looks pissy, it’s because he is.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Moat said into the mic with a smile. The crowd laughed and Moat felt himself calm a bit, now knowing that they liked him.

“Fuck off. That’s our guitarist- Frank. He looks mean but he’s a baby.” Frank laughed and waved his hand at him. “And our drummer- Zip. A little neurotic but a bunch lovable. And I’m Eugene, I can never shut the fuck up. That’s why I sing.”

“Let’s get a fucking move on!” Zip yelled from where he was sitting at Eugene, the mic catching his voice and slightly amplifying it to the crowd who yelled in concurrence with him.

“We are Profuse Dopamine and we need to get a fucking move on!” Eugene yelled.

“One, two, three, four!” Zip counted, hitting his sticks together,leading the band into their song.

Frank closed his eyes and hit the chords, keeping up with Zip’s speed. Moat kept his head up, looking at each person in the crowd and bounced slightly on his toes. Frank could hear the smile in Eugene’s voice, pulling him toward the want to open his eyes. He smiled and decided to look at the people watching him play. His hands continued to play the correct notes- muscle memory- he thought to himself. Each face he looked at was sweaty and flushed, almost everyone was moving along to their music. Mostly looking like they were enjoying it. Frank laughed and started to move around on stage more, feeling more loose and comfortable playing for the people that were there. Frank looked behind him at Zip once the song was finished and the crowd was yelling and clapping. Zip’s face was sweaty and started to turn a pinkish shade, but he was smiling and laughing, looking at people and mouthing things to them. He counted down to another song and Frank enjoyed every minute he played up on the stage, finding a new reason every time he looked at another person to keep playing.

-

Frank leaned against the bar, swallowing mouthfuls of water, trying to cool off after standing on a hot, bright, low, and crowded stage for so long. He fanned himself with a coaster, praying in his head that this place could have even the slightest bit of air conditioning turned on.

“Hey,” Frank turned to the voice that seemed directed at him. “You’re from that Dopamine band, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” Frank said, swallowing water. He turned and noticed it was a whole group of people. “Why do you ask?”

“First of all,” One with purple hair started talking fast. “Your guys’ band was great. I honestly enjoyed every song. Do you have an album out yet? Can I buy it somewhere?”

“Uh, no.” Frank shook his head. “Sorry, we haven't officially recorded anything yet, but when we do, I’ll make sure you know somehow.”

“Tight, see you later. Next band is coming out. You guys coming?” She said and made her way back into the crowd, the other people in the group following her back in front of the stage.

“I just came to ask you something,” The first girl said. “Do you do hops?”

“What?” Frank felt almost embarrassed and caught way off guard. “N-no. I mean, I used to but I’m clean. I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Well I have some. And you look cool so I wanted to invite you. It’s good shit and I was just wondering if you wanted to come shoot up with me and some of my friends tonight. It's free.” She turned to leave back into the crowd.

“I won't want to.” He called to her.

“Okay,” she turned around to look him in the face. “If you change your mind, come find me. I'll be around here all night.”

“Oh, fuck.” Frank said to himself, feeling drawn to that girl now that he knew she had heroin on her. He didn’t want to get high and ruin his sobriety, but he definitely would love to get high and feel good. His head swam with thoughts and he quickly finished his water in a few gulps, attempting to drown the memory of what just happened seconds ago.

“Frank!” Gerard said, touching his arm.

“Oh, shit.” Frank flinched, being pulled out of his own thoughts by Gerard’s touch. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Come on, your parents are here. And Kitty and Bea. They want to say hi before they go back home.” Gerard pulled Frank behind the crowd to the tables where the four of them sat. “You look weird, are you alright?”

“Yeah, it's just really hot in here.” He held onto Gerard's hand as he pulled him across the room. “And stuffy.”

“Frank!” His mother shrieked before practically sprinting to him and hugging him. “You’re so sweaty,” She complained. “You really did amazing. Your whole band plays like pros! I can’t believe how wonderful you sounded!”

“That was honestly a really great performance, Frank” His father patted his sweaty head. “I'm really proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks, dad. Do you wanna meet my band? I don't know where they are, but I can go find them.” Frank craned his neck, searching for familiar faces.

“We have to get going soon, but I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed watching you play tonight. We'll meet them another time.” His father dabbed his forehead with a napkin.

“Yeah, it's getting late, Frankie.” His mother stared into his huge, glassy eyes. “It was so nice to see you.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I'll see you soon, baby.”

“Bye dad. By mom, I'll see you later.” He waved as he watched them turn to leave, his mother carefully avoiding all the dirty, sweaty kids on the way out.

“Frank!” Kitty hugged him. “I fucking knew you’d play an amazing show one day.” “Hey Gerard!” She launched herself into a hug to him.

“Hey Kitty.” He laughed. “Hey Bea.”

“What's up.” Bea nodded at him.

“You really liked it?” Frank smiled and asked Kitty.

“Fuck yes, I did.” Kitty breathed out. “Your guys’ songs kicked ass. Me and Bea both loved every minute of it.” She held onto Bea’s arm.

“Us and everyone else in this shithole.” Bea said to him. “Your band is really good. They crowd was so pumped the whole time.”

“Thank’s guys. That means the world. Are you staying?”

“No, we have to get back soon. We both have work tomorrow.” Kitty said.

Frank looked at his watch. “Fuck, it’s getting late. You guys should go soon so you’re not so dead tomorrow at work. It was great to see you two.”

“It was nice to see you to, Frank.” Kitty said, leaning in for one more hug despite the sweat. “It was nice to see you Gerard.” She smiled.

“You too,” He said waving as he lifted a glass to his mouth. “See you later Kitty, Bea.”

-

“Frank?” Gerard asked, laying they hand he didn't have on the wheel on Frank's.

He lifted his head, being pulled out of a shallow sleep. “Hm? What?”

“Pumpkin? What happened when you were at the bar? I know something was wrong and I didn't want to ask you while your parents and friends were there.” Gerard looked concerned and Frank looked up into his eyes, begging for truth.

Frank lifted himself up in his seat and rubbed at his eyes until he saw static. “Don't get scared- I didn't do anything bad.” He yawned. “I was standing there, drinking water and this girl came up to me and asked me if I wanted to go do hops with her.”

“Hops?” Gerard asked. “I'm going to sound like an idiot, but what are hops?”

“Oh, it's just another name for heroin.” Frank stretched his arms, his shoulders noisily popping.

“Oh, God. Frank, you didn't break your sobriety, did you? You didn't bring any with you, right?” Gerard's heart began to accelerate, he looked at Frank who looked extremely tired, but was he high?

“No, no! I didn't do anything, Gee. I swear. I told her I'm sober and that I don't do that shit anymore. Then she said if I changed my mind to find her.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I never looked for her, I spent the rest of the night with you.”

“Okay,” Gerard sighed, relieved. He laid his hand on Frank's head and kissed his forehead, feeling extremely proud of him for keeping his sobriety right in the face of temptation. “I'm really glad you decided to stay sober, pumpkin.”

“Me too. I know if I did it,” He yawned. “I would just feel worse once I came right down.”

Gerard smiled as he pulled the car into the parking space. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Mm,” Frank mumbled, dragging his body out of the car. He pulled his guitar out and held it tight to his chest.

“You look like a zombie. Come here.” Gerard said, holding his arms out.

Frank mindlessly walked into his arms and Gerard lifted him up, trying his hardest to keep Frank up. Frank wasn't heavy, but Gerard wasn't strong enough to carry him for a long time. He walked quickly into the apartment building through the doors, Frank held his guitar tightly to his body and began to fall into a light sleep in Gerard's arms. Gerard leaned against the elevator wall as it lifted them up to their floor while his arms began to burn. The bell dinged as the doors slid open and Gerard took long strides to his door, carefully pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking his door, spilling into his apartment. He pushed through the bedroom door and slid Frank into the bed. Frank's fingers loosened around the neck of the guitar, feeling something solid underneath him, even though he didn't quite realize what it was. Gerard pulled the guitar off Frank's body and set it on the floor, crawling into the bed, lying behind Frank's small, warm figure and resting his face in the nape of his neck.

-

Frank jerked awake, a craving for a high already had crawled up from his stomach, into his throat, and sat in his mouth, the bitter taste resting on his tongue. He looked next to him at Gerard's sleeping face and he laid a hand on it, his eyes burning with tears as he realized how much better he needed to be fore him. Pursing his lips, he craned his neck to drop a small kiss on the tip of his pointed nose. He made a small noise in his sleep, receiving the gesture in his dream.

“You deserve better, and I can't be what you deserve.” Frank whispered to him. He pulled his legs off the bed and carefully tip toed out of the room. His legs took his to where he wanted to be without any instruction from his consciousness. He left through the front door and stood in the hallway, digging through the pockets of his jeans for his cellphone. He shook his head at himself as he pulled it out and began to dial a familiar number. As the line rang and he started to wake up more, he realized what he was doing, but couldn't find the might to fight it.

“Hello.” The other voice on the line said, gruffly. They sounded muffled.

“Powder? It's Frank.” He chewed on his lip.

“Frank?! Hey, buddy! I haven't seen you in forever, I thought you were dead or something!” He yelled into the receiving end.

“No, not dead. Almost.” He said flatly. “Are you selling? Maybe not any H, but pills? You got any pills?”

“Fuck yeah, I have pills. You wanna buy?” He said eagerly, wanting to sell to Frank.

“I don't know. We’ll talk later.” He said quickly before ending the call. He stuffed his phone back down into his pocket and slouched all the way back into the bedroom.

Moonlight still spilled through the window and dripped into their bed, illuminating Gerard's features. He laid still, his arm resting where Frank previously laid next to him. The blanket covering his body rose softly and slowly along with his lungs. Frank crawled back next to Gerard, feeling the sting of hot tears being themselves around from the back of his eyes to the front. His vision blurred as he stared at Gerard and he reached out to touch his soft, pink lips. Tears fell sideways as Frank laid crying out of pure guilt and anger with himself.

“I'm so sorry, Gee. You don't deserve this bad shit that I brought into your life.” Frank said remorsefully.

Gerard made a small sound in his sleep and wrapped an arm around Frank's shoulder, pulling their bodies closer together in the cold room. Frank cried harder, struggling to keep quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading my story i 1000% appreciate and love you for spending time on it :---)


	16. Sixteen

Frank scooped excess cement off the top of bricks that were stacked and stuck to each other. He stepped back to look at his work, doing a once-over glance to make sure everything was straight and correct. He decided his work was exceptional and made his way over to the supervisor, feeling nerves rise from his stomach with every step he took closer to the small, round, old man scribbling on a clipboard.

“Hey Rich?” He stood in front of him, trying to look as collected as possible. “Would it be alright if I left early today? I finished the wall.” He removed his hardhat and held it against his chest.

“Hey, hats on until you’re off the site.” Rich hit his own hat with his pen. Frank muttered a sorry and quickly put his hat back on his head. Rich craned his neck to look at Frank’s wall. “It looks done to me. I guess you can leave, when you come back tomorrow, don’t forget to seal it, Frank.”

“I won’t,”  Frank smiled, turning to leave the worksite. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rich. Thank you!” He ripped his backpack off the sidewalk and quickly walked down the street, removing his hat and vest.

“See you!” Rich called to his back.

Frank walked as fast as his legs would carry him as he stuffed his hat and vest into his backpack. The knowledge of where he was going didn’t sit right with him, but he kept heading in that direction. He looked at his watch, hoping Powder would be awake at this time considering he was still awake and energetic- sounding at the hour Frank called him. Concern and worry about what would happen after he met up with Powder met his brain, but he pushed it to the back, trying desperately to shake images of Gerard’s sleeping, laughing, and crying face out of his mind. He knew if Gerard knew what he was doing it would hurt him, but Frank couldn’t help but spare his feelings for now, the craving caught up to him and his body was ignoring signals from his brain to stop moving, to turn around and go home and allow it to pass. The cravings were so close to each other these days, leaving so little time between them that at this point, it felt like one long yearning for a high.

It still hurt all the time. It hurt Frank to keep sober and he regretted the first needle to come in contact with his skin and release inside his body, but he couldn’t take it back. The decision to feel nothing but pleasure in a time of such pain was done and already made; and it worked. Nothing but pleasure. Until the high wore off and he felt nothing again. Sadness and loneliness filled him up hour by hour he allowed the drug to leave his system and he couldn’t help but go back. Go back and do it again and replace the loneliness with pleasure and fill the empty spaces with warmth and comfort. He liked it- he can’t deny that much. He really enjoyed being high, he loved the feeling he could achieve when he had the perfect amount of dope injected into his body. It was a pure, unadulterated, virgin feeling of euphoria. Nothing but. He’d give anything to live in that feeling, he gave a lot to live in that feeling, but he was never quite able to stay there. Sooner than later reality crashed down on him like ten tons of bricks. It hurt almost as bad, too.  The latter would be preferable in his mind.

“Frank?” Powder said, waving a hand in front of his face. His voice was gruff and Frank recognized the completely exhausted look in his bloodshot eyes. He was coming down off a high from last night. “You good, man?”

“I’m alright, just thinking about something. Can I buy some pills?” Frank asked, his face twisting into a desperate look. He started to feel confused about how he hadn’t realized he knocked on the door or noticed when Powder opened it.

“Yeah, I got some Ketamine and Oxy for you. Thought they’d be something you’d like.” Powder laughed, leaning his head on the door frame.

Frank cringed at how he could hear Powder’s cotton mouth. “Yeah, how much? Can I get some of both?” He reached in his pocket for his money.

“If you got the money, I’ll get you anything.” Powder wiped the corners of his mouth and silently invited Frank inside. “You haven’t been the most reliable for money though, Frank.” He said as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Oh,” Frank said as he heard the faucet run. “Well, I haven’t been spending all my money on dope lately.”

“Really? You went sober?” Powder raised his eyebrows as he lifted his glass up to his mouth. “No offense, Frank, but you were the last person I’d expect to get off the shit.”

Frank laughed as he sat on the arm of the couch. “Me too,” He sighed. “I only got sober because someone else wanted me to.” He pulled out cash and began counting.

“ _Oh_ , you’re getting sober for your girlfriend.” Powder scoffed as he dropped himself into a chair. “That never works, man. Me and my lady tried to get sober for eachother five years ago. She wanted more for herself and she wanted me to do something other than blow all day.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes hard.

“What do you mean? What happened?” Frank asked, holding his bills tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“She wanted a family.” He laughed, feeling his eyes burn from the . "I thought about how nice it’d be to have a kid.” He stuffed a cigarette between his teeth, searching his pockets for a lighter. “We went cold turkey and it fuckin’ sucked.”

“That’s true.” Frank laughed uneasily, leaning over with his lit lighter.

“Mhm,” Powder leaned into the flame, the tip of his cigarette meeting the fire. “Eventually we couldn’t do it anymore and went on a drug binge, she ended up overdosing.” His voice shook, but he kept his face steady. “I was too out of it to even realize what the fuck happened, the next morning I realized she was gone.”

“I’m so sorry, man, that sounds like a fucking nightmare.” Frank sighed, reaching in his pocket for his own cigarettes.

“It was.” He handed him a cigarette. “I’m just saying, Frank. Getting sober for someone else is a whole different deal than getting sober for you. Be careful.” Powder sighed, smoke exited through both his nose and mouth. “How much you want?”

“I’ve got two-fifty, how much can I get.” Frank showed him the folded dollars.

“Enough to kill you. If I sell you two fifty worth, stretch it. Not all at fucking once.” Powder shook his head.

“Yeah, I’ll stretch it. I won’t go overboard, I swear. I just don’t like not being high.” Frank handed him the cash.

“Amen,” Powder said around his cigarette as he counted the cash. “Be right back.” He stood up and disappeared into the bedroom. Frank sat silent in the silent room, wondering how the fuck he’d be able to control himself enough to not take too much at once. “Here,” Powder tossed two bags into his lap. “See you later, Frank.”

“Bye, Powder.” He opened the front door. “I’ll see you later, man.”

Frank nodded as he closed the door behind him, the air hit his face, feeling colder now than it did when he was walking blocks in it. He sighed and felt the pills through the bags in the pocket of his jacket, the realization of what a bad decision he had just made began to seep in. Before he got too into his head, he phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He flinched and pulled it out of his pocket, the pixelated word ‘Zip’ stained the screen and he answered it quickly.

“Hey, Zip, what’s going on?” Frank spoke casually, hoping he didn’t catch how slightly his voice was trembling.

“You off work?” He yelled into the phone. Frank cringed and wondered why he couldn’t just talk into it like everyone else on the planet.

“Nope,” He lied. “But I can leave if you need me to.”

“Well Moat got off early today and we were wondering if you wanted to come play for a while? Eugene isn’t here yet but he’s coming in about an hour-ish.” Zip said loudly into the phone at first, his voice lowered about halfway through and Frank assumed to account it on Moat telling him to keep it down,

“Yeah, sure. I’m looking for something to do anyway.” Frank said slipping one Oxycontin out of the bag. He turned it around in his fingers. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Zip.” Frank said, hanging up his phone and quickening his pace to the bus stop, knowing the next bus was due in a few minutes.

Heavily, he plopped his body down onto the bus stop bench, sighing as his legs were able to rest. Carefully, he slipped a small, round, orange pill onto his tongue. He recognized the taste and felt his heart jump and his eyes sting. No matter how badly he didn’t want to do it, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to finally get something in his system and relieve some pressure. Before a tear could spill over his waterline, the bus pulled up to the curb and the doors flung open. People exited off and Frank along with a few other people that were waiting boarded the bus. He slid into a seat towards the middle and kept his eyes out the window, not wanting to make unneeded eye contact with anyone. He allowed himself to sink into the stiff bus seat as the pill dissolved in his stomach and released chemicals, awaiting his high. His eyes shut and he waited for the next stop to come.

The image of Gerard’s face spilled into the back of his eyelids and he stared back at it. Back into the pair of Gerard’s eyes that he generated from memory, causing more feelings of guilt to fill him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, begging the effects of the pill to fill his head.

-

Frank sat on the concrete floor of the garage giggling as he plucked strings on Moat’d bass to make a deep tune. Pushing aside the feelings of sudden nausea and lightheadedness was less than a minor inconvenience. He didn't even notice it compared to how good it was making him feel. He laid on his back, the cold concrete pressed against the back of his head and back, rising goosebumps on his arms. Zip, upside down in his vision, continued to slowly hit his drums, searching for a good rhythm he could use for a new song. Faintly, the sounds of Moat and Zip conversing made it to Frank's eardrums, but the context wouldn't click. He didn't mind though, he felt like he was floating on clouds. Concrete clouds. He felt something hit his chest and at first, he didn't plan to react, not caring what it was, but a slight twinge of pain pulled him from his trance and made him flinch.

“The fuck?” He slurred, picking up the drumstick that lie next to him. “This you, Zip?”

“You weren't hearing me. I was asking you if you wanted a ride home? You look exhausted as shit, man.” He spun the other stick around his fingers.

“Yup, I sure do. When do i leave?” Frank rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the fog.

“Now? Is now okay with you?” Zips fingers messed up and his drumstick fell.

“Let's go, boys.” Frank pulled himself off the ground, standing with his hands in the pocket of his goodie, awaiting someone to escort him out.

“I'll drive.” Moat swirled a keychain around his finger. “Zip, you coming?” He continued to walk to the car.

“Yes!” He skipped to the passenger door, wrapping his knotty fingers tightly around the handle. “I got shotgun, you're too slow Frank.”

“M’not always slow. Just right now.” He said, dragging his feet to the backseat and climbing in.

“Why _are_ you so slow today? You've been like that the whole time.” Moat asked, turning the engine over. “If I didn't know better I'd say you're fuckin’ high.”

“Wouldn't that he somethin’.” Frank nodded. “Don't worry about me, you guys. Long day at work and everything, just gotta sleep it off.”

“I know you're not high, Frank.” Zip laughed. “I know you're better than that.” His finger flew to his teeth to get chewed on.

“Mhm,” Frank agreed, not knowing what Zip had just said to him.

He sank into the silence in his own thoughts, disregarding the conversation going on between Moat and Zip. He watched as Zip flung his hands around as he spoke, making what he was saying seem more valid and important. Moat kept mostly still, moving his head occasionally nodding slowly in agreement. When he nodded his head, his hair moved along with it almost in slow motion, attempting to catch up with his skull. Moats hands gripped loosely onto the steering wheel, much looser than Frank would ever dare to hold on. But he noticed that about Moat; how loose he was. His shoes, though they fit him perfectly looked loose. The way his hair sat on his head looked loose, his eyes looked like they were holding loosely onto his brain, threatening to droop further and fall out at any given moment. His speech was cool and calm, his voice was easy to listen to. Frank looked at Moats eyes and nose in the rear view mirror, noticing small freckles misting along his face. Even they looked to cling loose to his skin.

Zip on the other hand was opposite in almost every way like that. Nothing about him looked loose. More like tight- something like when you tie your laces, and pull them just an extra half inch and your feet feel like they're being suffocated. That's how Zip looked in his skin. His eyes sat wide all the time as he wildly examined everything around him, not daring to miss a thing. The knots in his shoelaces looked so tight, it made Frank wonder if he ever even took his shoes off or if the way he tied it made it impossible. He talked fast, getting everything he has to say out at once, but he made damn sure you caught everything he said. Zip was pulled a little too tight, but something about him made him seem loose when he was around Moat.

“Which building?” Moat turned his head to Frank.

“Uh, big one there. The brown bricks with the black painted fire escapes, see it?” Frank pointed his finger to his building.

“Oh, yeah. It looks nice as fuck.” He studied it.

“Like a hotel or something! You really live there, Frank?” Zip turned to look at him, pushing his face into the back seat.

“Sure do, Buddy.” He laughed.

“Do you want us to help you inside?” Moat asked, parking on the side of the street in front of the building, barely missing hitting the wheels on the curb.

“M’no. I can get in alone.” Frank said, scooting off the seat and landing harshly on the sidewalk. He turned his head into the open passenger window. “Bye Zip, thanks for the ride, Moat.”

“No sweat.” Moat nodded.

“Do you work tomorrow? Can we hang out tomorrow? Are you gonna be busy?” Zip rested his head in his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs.

“Huh?” Frank slowly shook his head, rubbing his eyes, trying to get rid of the drug fog. “You asked me too many questions at once.”

“Will we see you tomorrow?” Moat asked, summing up what Zip wanted to know. Zip nodded, eagerly awaiting Frank's response.

“Uh,” Frank tried to recall if he had something going on tomorrow. “Maybe. I'll call you, man. And let you know if I can chill.”

“Okay!” Zip smiled. “Bye Frank. Goodnight!” He waved wildly as Moat continued down the street, leaving Frank alone.

The stars glowed above him and he sighed, lifting his head up to stare and admire. Slowly, his fingers subconsciously lifted another small pill to his lips, thinking on their own, not needing his consent. Frank obediently swallowed the pill, shutting his eyes that burned and stung with regret as he felt it slip down his throat and into his stomach to dissolve. His legs began to carry him around the building and he let his body do what it pleased, his mind rested and he let go of the feeling to fight back to control himself. The ground underneath him slid past slowly and he watched his feet trudge on under him. He watched the metal steps hit the bottom of his feet until his body stopped going and fell onto the metal floor, his back relaxing against the cold rods. His eyes tracked the stars, watching them glimmer and wink at him. The clouds traveled across the sky and he wished to be a cloud, weightless and floating through the sky. Unbothered.

-

Frank flinched himself out of sleep. His eyes immediately darted to the window and he shook the sleep out of his head. Gerard stood on the other side, memories of Frank months ago filled his thoughts and made him feel sick. He stared wide eyed and threw his hands up in confusion before sliding the window open.

“What are you doing out here? You scared me.” He held his arms out to help pull frank into the apartment.

“I don’t know. Sorry for scaring you Gee.” He laid his head on his shoulder, feeling the need for sleep fill his head even more. A feeling of weightlessness hit him and he smiled to himself, remembering the clouds. “I was looking at the stars and I guess I fell asleep.”

“You still look tired.” Gerard cradled his face in his hands and looked deeply into his eyes, examining the drooped look he was smeared with.

“I am, but I feel good.” He said truthfully.

“Zip texted me and told me to check on you.” Frank’s head snapped up, fearing Gerard would realize what he was hiding. “He said you looked tired, like you were sick.”

“I feel fine.” Frank laughed nervously. “Really, Gee. I am alright.”

Gerard sighed and looked into Frank’s eyes. “I feel like I’ve seen this look on you before. This feels familiar. Do you know what I mean?”

“Well you just pulled me off the fire escape, that might’ve reminded you of a past time.” Frank shrugged.

Gerard laughed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He began to run his tongue on the backsides of his teeth. “I just can’t help but feel like something’s wrong.”

“ _Stop_.” Frank said, his whole body beginning to fill up with rage and he pulled himself off Gerard, putting feet of distance between them. “If you’re accusing me of something come out and fucking say it.” The hot feeling in his head began to scare him and he warned himself to stop, but his angry thoughts abolished his precaution.

“I- Frank?” He stepped toward him and Frank stepped backward. He got the hint and decided not to move any closer. “I-I’m not _accusing_ you of anything. I was just trying to f-figure out if you were sick.” He said nervously, wanting to extinguish the situation before it got any more heated. “I just felt a little off seeing you asleep on the fire escape.” He scoffed.

“Why’s that? Why are you put off seeing me passed out there?” He felt his whole body begin to tremble with anger and his conscience continued to yell at him to calm down. He knew he was overreacting, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Y-you know why.” Gerard backed up, seeing Frank’s hands ball up into fists as they shook.

Frank smirked. “Because last time I was there I was out of my fucking mind on heroin. Is that why? Are you scared I’m gonna shoot up again? Because I really fucking feel like it right about now, and that feeling will probably never fucking go away.” His voice was rising in volume and his eyes began to burn, his vision becoming blurred.

“Frank,” Gerard’s voice shook. “You’re scaring me.”

In his mind, he was too far in to stop. But deep down he knew he could easily deescalate what was happening. “I’m not on heroin right now and I don’t intend to be any time soon.” He said flatly.

“I never said-” Gerard put out a hand and took a step towards him, Frank looking like he was about to collapse right in front of him.

“Stay the fuck away from me! Get away!” Frank backed up hurriedly, his back roughly bumping into the countertop.

“Please, stop!” Gerard said, wrapping his arms around himself. “Frank! Stop.” His eyes blurred as he watched Frank try his hardest to hold himself up as he shook.

“I can’t stay here anymore, Gee!” He let out a cry, using all his strength to hold himself up on the counter. “All I’m gonna do is hurt you.”

“W-what? Frank, why? I know you’re not on heroin right now. I didn’t think you were. Pumpkin, I’m so sorry for making you think I thought you relapsed. I know you’re strong, I didn’t think you were high. It just made me think of when you were out there, homeless, broke, and always high. It made me appreciate who you are now. Please don’t leave.” Gerard began to silently cry, a soft tear rolled down his cheek.

“No! Stop talking!” Frank covered his ears as he weeped, his body curling up into itself on the cold floor.

“Aw, fuck.” Gerard said to himself, wiping at his eyes wildly. “Y-you don’t have to leave.” He began to sob.

“I do!” Frank cried.

“No, no. You don’t, we- I” Gerard’s mind was empty of all words and he felt sick. “I love you.” He coughed out in a desperate cry.

“Stop it- stop it- stop!” He was blubbering at this point. His face, and neck were hot and wet with tears and his nose began to run. He took short breaths, unable to catch it. “I’m s- sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Gerard let his body rest and he sank onto the floor.

“B-because I love you too.” He cried harder, feeling like his throat was going to turn inside out. “And I’m the worst person in the world to love.”

“Frank,” Gerard crawled on all fours over to him. He tenderly laid a hand on his hot, red cheek and Frank melted into his touch. “You aren’t the worst person in the world to love. You’re not hard to love. Not boring or tiring. Loving you is the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“Y-you’re just saying that.” Frank sniffled. “I’m a disgusting drug addict. I don’t deserve love.”

“You’re wrong.” Gerard pulled Frank into his lap and he desperately wrapped himself around him, wrapping his arms tightly around Gerard’s neck. “I can name ten things in one minute that I love about you.”

“Time starts now.” Frank said sarcastically.

“Hm,” Gerard hummed. “One. I love how when you sleep, you get as close to me as possible, then complain that my body is too warm. Two. I love that you stutter when you’re nervous or when you’re unsure. Three. I love when you wake up and the hair above your ears sticks out. Four. I love the way your neck smells. Five. I love the sound of your heartbeat when you’re dreaming. Six. I love how no matter what’s going on on the ground, you look up at the sky. Seven. I love how you chew on _every_ pen I lend you and give it back with your hand covering the top like I wouldn’t notice.”

Frank laughed dryly into Gerard’s neck. “Thirteen seconds.”

“Eight. I love the way you brush your teeth. You always try so hard to keep all the toothpaste in your mouth, but it drips onto your shirt every time. Nine. I love how you bitch about the cold weather, like you don’t know New Jersey is cold. Ten. I love the way you talk to me when you think I’m asleep.”

“You went twelve seconds over.” Frank yawned, feeling like all his energy had leaked out of his eyes in the form of tears.

“Those twelve seconds can eat shit, I talked as fast as I could.” Gerard pulled Frank’s face up out of his neck to look at him. “Will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Frank sighed and looked down into his lap. “I- I guess I just had a shitstorm of a craving today. I’m sorry, Gee. I don’t wanna leave, on second thought.” He leaned his forehead against Gerard’s.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere, pumpkin.” He sighed, feeling exhaustion kick in.

Frank shuddered, guilt piling heavier and heavier in the pit of his stomach. “Wanna go to bed?” The last thing he wanted to do was stay conscious and face the reality of the emotional toll he just put Gerard through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-))))))))) huge thanks and much much love to anyone who takes the time to read my story. i hope you're all doing well.
> 
> (p.s im working on a shit ton of new stories (I have so many ideas) and im excited to start sharing those with you guys :-))


	17. Seventeen

Frank hunched over in the bus seat, squeezing his eyes shut tight so they wouldn't start watering. It wasn’t a far walk home, he always walked the few blocks it took to get to work. It couldn’t take him more than twenty-five minutes to walk home. Yet, here he was. Slouched over in a bus seat, feeling nauseous and clammy, with a sharp pain in his side, feeling pissed at himself. He knew he was feeling so negative because of the drugs. This happened every time he went over twelve hours without anything. His body began to act as if he had the flu, desperate for any opiate, any narcotic to enter his stomach. A few a day, he told himself. If he only took two or three moderately during his day, he could keep it hidden and keep it under control. He thought it would work without flaw, and it did for a while. Gerard didn’t have any suspicion on behalf of Frank’s behavior that he wasn’t sober again. He remained extra careful around Gerard about it, keeping his pills hidden always and not taking more than one at once. At work, during a bathroom break, what was popping one pill? It kept him comfortable his whole shift and he was able to work more efficiently. Drugs weren’t occupying the space in his thoughts anymore now that he had them in his stomach.

But now that he had forgotten to bring the pills with him, it felt like his stomach was shrivelling up inside his body. The pain subsided and he relaxed against the seat. The bus stopped and Frank slid in his seat from leaving his body so limp. Without thinking, he exited the bus quickly, knowing it was his stop and wanting to get home as fast as he could. If he wasn’t so dizzy, he would’ve started sprinting. He held onto his backpack straps and tried to quicken his pace, the outer edges of his sight beginning to fade into black as his lightheadedness peaked. He could feel himself swaying, but he continued to walk. His main concern was remaining on his feet. Something that sounded simple in his head, felt so difficult when put into action at the moment.

The building came into sight and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He tried to make his strides longer and it felt like he was doing it. But he figured he probably looked so ridiculous stumbling around in the street he probably wasn’t. The cool metal of the handle of the front door felt extra stimulating pressed against Frank’s hot skin. He felt like he was gripping it for too long and hastily ripped it open and jogged to the elevator, pressing the up button over and over until the doors pulled apart. He fell into the elevator and his back hit the wall, his tailbone hitting the metal bar rather harshly. Though it hurt, he dismissed the pain and smacked the ninth floor button, lowering his body into the floor, squatting down with his head between his knees. He listened to the smooth, steady sound of the elevator lifting him up to his floor, relaxing against it. The bell dinged and he shot up, seeing black and going lightheaded, he stumbled back a bit, but pressed into the hallway, keeping his hand on the wall.  He continued down the hallway, feeling like the numbers were going on forever. He watched the numbers as they passed, waiting for one to light up in his mind as his own. When he recognized his own door, he smiled feeling like a weight was in the process of being lifted off his shoulders. He dug around in his pocket and lifted out his keys, shoving one into the lock and twisting. The lock clicked and the door gave way, letting Frank inside. Fungus meowed at him, asking for attention, but he brushered her off, making a beeline to the bedroom. He reached into his drawer, pulling out a sock and reaching his hand into it. He felt the small bag inside and carefully removed it. He lifted one small orange pill to lip lips and set it on his tongue, waiting to the effects to happen.

He sighed and let his body fall onto the bed, feeling exhausted from the sickness. His eyes drooped heavily, needing to fall and he allowed them to. He let himself fall into sleep, his whole body feeling to heavy to lift anyway.

-

Gerard sighed and shook his head as he listened to the line ring for the third time. He desperately needed to let Frank know what was going on, but he was making it impossible. He tapped his foot and looked around in the dark as he stood outside the campus library, waiting for Frank to pick up the fucking phone. _We’re sorry the numb-_ Gerard groaned as he hung up on the voicemail. He was beginning to feel worried, Frank never ignores his calls. He considered picking up his things and going home. He decided he’d call one more time before he made the decision to leave. He stood with his arms crossed, feeling the cold air nip at his nose. The line rang twice and he felt annoyed that Frank probably wouldn’t answer.

“M’hello?’ Frank moaned on the other side.

“Frank? What are you doing? I’ve been calling you.” Gerard’s eyebrows furrowed in worry and he began to tap his foot faster.

“Fuck, sorry, Gee. As soon as I got home I passed out. I did a lot of heavy lifting at work today and that wore me out. I even had to take the bus home.” Frank’s voice sounded gruff, like he had just woken up. “Shit, where are you? It’s already eight.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I stayed back to work on the planning for my project until like six-thirty. I’m at the campus library, I have to study for exams.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“Oh, okay. Take all the time you need. You want me to wait up? I can start making dinner in a while for us or something.” Frank offered, stretching out on the bed, feeling like he had energy.

“That sounds great, Frank. But I don’t think I’ll be home until late. Once I finish studying I might go back to work on my project, just to begin painting my shit.” He sighed, eyeing the coffee shop across the street.

“Oh, okay. Text me when you’re on your way home though. I wanna see you.” Frank sat up off the bed, making his way to the bathroom.

Gerard giggled. “I will, pumpkin. Make sure you eat.”

“You too. Get some food before you study. A hungry mind is a wandering mind.” He leaned over the toilet as he balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder as he unzipped his pants.

“Where’d you hear that?” He laughed.

“I don’t remember. Probably like, Doctor Phil, or something.” Frank sighed as he finally was able to empty his bladder. “How late do you think you might stay?”

“Maybe midnight. Or later. However long it takes for me to get my project on its feet.” He yawned, deciding to go to the coffee shop first and foremost.

“Okay,” Frank zipped up his jeans. “I’ll leave you some leftovers of whatever I eat. I’ll wait up for you, I napped and feel awake now.”

“Alright,” He laughed. “You don’t have to wait up for me.”

“I want to.” He smiled into the phone, liking the way Gerard’s voice sounded as it came out.

“Okay,” He laughed. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home. I’ll see you later, pumpkin.” He bit at his lip.

“See you then. I love you.” He opened the fridge door. “Bye.”

“I love you, too.” Gerard said before the line clicked dead. He smiled to himself, skipping to the coffee shop. The good mood Frank put him in was going to make him much more productive than he thought he’d be tonight.

Frank pulled a popsicle out of the freezer, breaking it though the plastic as he called Eugene. The line rang only for a short time before he answered it.

“Hey, why didn't you come tonight?” Eugene asked into the phone.

“Just wasn't my night. I came home feeling sick and passed out. Figure it’d be better to just stay home.” He lifted the popsicle to his mouth.

“Oh, shit. Feel better soon, dude.” He said loudly over the noise even though the cellphone mic didn’t catch the sound of Zip’s drums.

“Thanks man, I will. See you guys later.” Frank clicked the line dead, feeling like he wanted to do something else, but wasn't sure of what yet.

He leaned more of his weight onto the counter, sighing as he held the popsicle between his lips. He wanted to do something, he felt like having _fun._ Fungus hopped up onto the stool and up onto the counter. Frank smiled at the pat sounds her paws made against the material. She sat herself in front of him and stared, expecting him to do something interesting. He sighed again and laid a hand on her head, scratching between her ears. She closed her eyes and began purring, which made them both happy.

“What should we do, Fungus?” Frank asked the cat, looking into her dull eye. She meowed at him before jumping down on the floor. She entered the still illuminated bedroom and sat in the doorway, waiting for Frank.

“Uh, no. Boring.” He said, moving over onto the couch.

-

Frank didn't really know how he ended up here, he couldn't remember what led him to this current situation. The cold floor felt nice against his bare back. Inside of his body began to feel hot, but he couldn't recall when he took his shirt of. Oh well. He held two more pills in his hand. Both different colors and sizes. Both have different flavors. But Frank couldn't remember which was the ketamine and which was the oxy. He giggled at his forgetfulness and popped them into his mouth at the same time. The bigger one in size felt like it took up most of the space in his mouth. He separated the two with his tongue so he could swallow the big one first. He lifted his hand above his face, reaching for the ceiling. Frank couldn't remember how many he took or if there were any left. All he knew was that he felt good. High. And tired. So, so tired. He rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes, wanting to take nap so he could be awake when Gerard got home. He really wanted to see Gerard.

-

“Frank?” Gerard called as me creeped through the door. “You awake, pumpkin?” He dropped his bag and his coat on the floor, feeling exhausted. Paint was caked on his nails and his hands. The whole bus ride home was spent picking at it, but there was still so much. He yawned and walked into the living room, locating Frank. He thought it was strange Frank was lying shirtless on the floor. The apartment was freezing. He picked up his shirt and knelt down in front of him.

“Mm, hey.” Frank slurred, half asleep. He reached out to touch Gerard's face and missed, his hand landing on the couch cushion.

Gerard furrowed his brow and snapped his head up to study Frank's face. He leaned in closer and grabbed his face between his thumb and index finger, holding him still.

“You okay?” He looked into his eyes, his pupils looking strangely small in the dim light. Frank dropped his face heavily into Gerard's hand. “Frank? What's going on with you?”

“Nothing important.” He shut his eyes and dropped the rest of his heavy body into his lap. “Nothing is important.”

“Tons of things are important.” Gerard ran his hands through Frank's damp hair, his head felt hot.

“Sleep is important. Gee, I'm so tired.” He moaned at Gerard's touch, his fingers in his scalp felt very stimulating.

“Stay awake for me, pumpkin. Please.” He knew something was wrong. He picked the shirt back up that he had dropped and pulled it over Frank's head. He sat like a rag doll, allowing Gerard to dress him. Gerard ran his fingers over the goosebumps that began to rise on his arms.

“Sleep. I wanna sleep.” Frank nestled into Gerard's body. “Just let me sleep.”

“Frank?” Gerard's heart started to beat faster with worry. “No,” He pushed him up into a sitting position. “What's the matter? Why are you acting like this?” He feared his answer, knowing if his intuition was right, everything they'd built, would have to be redone.

Frank smiled weakly and held his arms out for Gerard to fall into. “Gee, lets sleep.”

“No.” Gerard touched Frank's hot forehead. “Please, what's wrong?” His body flushed with clammy worry.

Frank brought his hands back to his body and wrapped them around himself, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Why are you upset with me?” Frank's voice started to quiver. “Please don't be mad.” He sniffed and stuffed his face into his knees.

“Frank,” Gerard neared towards him. “I'm not m-”

“Go away,” Frank said into his knees. “Just leave me alone. Let me sleep. Please leave me alone.” He begged. “Oh, God. My stomach.” He wrapped his hands around his abdomen while he fell over. “I’m so sorry, Gerard. I took some pills and I think I took too many. Don’t be mad, please.”

“Frank get up.” Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank and pulled him from the floor. “Let's go.” He stood Frank's limp body up and attempted to lead him to the door. “I’m not mad, I promise.” He wasn’t lying; he wasn’t mad. He was afraid.

“I don't wanna go anywhere. I want to sleep. I don't care!” He held his hand over his mouth, gagging. “Gonna puke.”

“Oh, Frank.” Gerard lifted him up with strength he pulled from deep down and carried him to the bathroom. Frank gagged and held the nauseous feeling in his throat, his eyes remaining glued shut.

Frank quickly fell out of Gerard's arms and landed on his feet, and hunched over the toilet. He gripped the sides and heaved into the bowl. Foam and stomach bile came up and the remains of pills that made Gerard's eyes sting. “ _Gotta_ sleep.” He said, wiping his mouth. “So tired, Gee. I don't care anymore.” Gerard eyed the pills sinking in the toilet water, wondering what he did wrong.

“Let's go. No sleep right now.” Gerard wrapped a hand around Frank's waist and led him to the front door. Frank dragged his feet, following next to Gerard. “Come on.” Gerard held a coat open for Frank.

“Who cares.” Frank started at his feet.

“Pumpkin,” Gerard said, wrapping Frank in the coat, pulling his arms through. He did his best to keep his voice from shaking, but it only worked to an extent. He sat Frank down and slipped boots onto his socked feet. “Okay, ready?” He asked, pulling his own coat back onto his body. A tear spilled over his waterline and he wiped it off before Frank caught sight of it.

“No.” Frank slurred. “Can't walk around right now. Feel like I'm gonna faint. Worse than earlier.” Gerard watched painfully as Frank stumbled backwards, desperately trying to catch his feet. He leaned against the wall and began to slide down into a sitting position.  

Gerard bit at the inside of his cheek and sighed, searching in his head for a solution to get Frank outside and to the hospital. “Alright.” He said, squatting down. “Wanna hop on my back?”

“Do you want me to?” Frank asked, his eyes shut in a cringe.

“I do.” He nodded.

“Okay.” Frank said, climbing onto Gerard's back and wrapping his arms around his chest, holding on.

Gerard placed his hands under Frank, keeping him up. He swiped his keys off the counter and stumbled through the front door, Frank's weight pushing down on his knees. He made his way clumsily down the hallway, eventually reaching the elevator. He sighed thankfully and pushed the button with the down arrow. Frank had started to slip, so Gerard hopped up, pushing Frank higher up on his back and Frank let out a cry.

“My head, Gee. That hurts.” He mumbled into his ear, his voice sounding gruff.

“Sorry, pumpkin. I didn't want you to fall.” He said, staring at the closed elevator doors, another tear threatening to fall.

“That's alright.” He laid his head on Gerard's neck. The elevator finally dinged and the doors slid open.

Gerard quickly got inside and set Frank down, watching him slide down the wall and sit on the cold floor, his eyes drooped far down and h

is lips sat parted. He sat down next to him and kept held Frank's head up, not really knowing what to do now. Keeping Frank awake was a priority.

“Frank, let's play a game.” Gerard suggested.

“Can't think.” Frank's head hung loose on his neck.

“You don't have to think much for this one.” He lifted his head by the chin and looked into his eyes. Feeling immense pain in his chest from the sadness.

“Okay then.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open again.

“Hop up.” Gerard turned his back to Frank, still low so he could climb on. Frank weakly lifted himself onto Gerard's back. “I'll say a color and you tell me a thing that's that color. Okay?”

“M’okay. But can I say the colors?” His mouth sounded like it was pretty much shut the whole time and Gerard hopped, trying to jerk him out of any sleep he might me falling into.

“Yeah, of course.” A tear blurred his vision as he pushed through the front doors, turning to go to the parking lot.

“Purple.” Frank breathed out. His lips pushed against the side Gerard's head as he puffed out the _p_ sound.

“Okay. Grapes, violets, eggplants.” He hummed, attempting to pull more purple objects from his mind. He unlocked his car.

“Green.” Frank smiled as he fell into the passenger seat.

“Um,” Gerard ran around the front of the car and hopped in, turning over the engine. “Grass, lettuce, frogs, crocodiles.” He pulled out onto the street and sped up, running through a red light. “Apples, leaves, and um, moss.”

“Blue.” Frank wrapped his arms around himself in the seat, getting comfortable. “I'm going to the hospital, aren't I?”

“Yeah you are. Sit up.” Gerard poked Frank. “The sky, the sea, blueberries.”

“That's gonna suck.” Frank shut his eyes and sighe

d, feeling sleep already anchoring him down. Gerard noticed and stomped on the breaks. The street was empty and he assumed it wouldn't hurt anyone. Frank jerked forward, his body behind caught by the seatbelt, but his sleep being thrown into the windshield.

“Next color.” Gerard encouraged him, knowing the hospital was still a few minutes away.

“I don’t fuckin’ know.” He pushed his fingers into his throbbing temples. The motion sickness began adding onto the previous nausea. Purple.” Frank slurred heavily, almost inaudible.

Gerard's eyes burned and blurred as Frank repeated the color. He let out a choked sob and gripped tighter onto the steering wheel, fearing he'd lose control. His tears choked him as he sobbed out purple objects. “V-Violets and grapes.” He looked over to Frank who was breathing shallowly, his head hung down.

“Yellow.” He said, not moving his lips.

“The sun.” Gerard choked out, unable to think about anything other than Frank. He gasped slightly as Frank’s cold fingers wrapped around his free hand.

“Do you still love me?” Frank asked. His voice unconnected but the question didn’t.

“Yes.” Gerard sniffed, wiping at his nose. “I still love you.”

“Okay.” Frank smiled and his grip on Gerard’s hand began to loosen.

Gerard let out another violent sob. This time, it caught in his throat and choked him. He inhaled erratically and continued to cry, the road ahead of him blurring. The red hospital light sign crept into his vision and he turned hard into the path that read ‘ _Emergency’._ Frank was unconscious and unmoving at this point and Gerard looked at him, feeling more of an urge to weep now. He grabbed his shoulder and shook him, attempting to wake him up.

“Frank! Don't you fucking die on me!” He pulled in front of the emergency entrance which seemed awfully empty. He half assed parking his car, taking up half of two spaces, and jumped out, flinging to the passenger side. He ripped the door open and pulled Frank out, dragging him by his arms. He threw one of Frank's arms over his shoulder and held onto his waist dragging his limp body next to him.

“Help!” He yelled, approaching the doors. He noticed someone at the front desk look up at him. They called something out to a person he couldn't see. “Help him, please!” The automatic doors opened and he stumbled inside, Frank's feet dragging behind them.

“Sir? Okay, come on. I need a gurney!” The small female called out, helping Gerard hold up Frank. Another person in matching scrubs pushed a gurney forward and they helped Frank onto it, laying him on his back and pushing him down the hall. Gerard's feet felt cemented into the linoleum floor and he wrapped his arms around himself, beginning to whimper slightly as he cried.

“Sir? I need you to fill out this form.” A man in the same scrubs said with his hands folded over a clipboard. Gerard meekly nodded, wanting to take the form, but was somehow unable.

“He overdosed. Please help him. Please.” Gerard looked into the man’s eyes. Not sure why he was begging him when all he was doing was handing him the form.

“I promise you we will do all we can for him. Do you happen to know _what_ he overdosed on?” The man asked, lowering the board. Gerard shook his head, feeling more tears build up in his eyes. “Alright. That's okay, please fill out the form.” He held it to him expectantly.

Gerard looked up at him, his eyes stained red. He took the clipboard slowly and walked backwards into the waiting room. He found an isolated seat in the corner and fell into the chair, already leaning over the papers. He sighed as he began to fill out Frank's information. It was all relatively easy, no allergies, no diseases, doesn't take medications, why he's here. He sighed as he tried to keep his hand steady, his handwriting looking incredibly shaky. He sniffled and wiped at his nose, hunching over the clipboard more as he sped through the blanks. He flipped over to the next page, and rubbed at his burning eyes. He scribbled into the blanks, mindlessly filling out the information. He filled out the last box and dragged his tired body to the desk where the woman who he saw first sat.

“Here, I don't-” He handed it to her, stammering, not sure what to say.

“Thanks honey, you can take a seat over there and the doctors will let you know if you'll be able to see him.” She pointed to the waiting room he came from.

“Is he gonna be okay?” He asked, feeling his heartbeat in his head.

“The doctors will do everything they can, sweetheart.” She recited the same line the man before had said.

“Okay. Thanks anyway. He used to ne on heroin, he isn’t anymore. But he might’ve took other opitaes. I don’t know, I thought that might help.” He said, defeated, and left to curl up on the chair.

“It will. Thank you so much, honey. Do you need water or anything?” She leaned over her desk. Gerard shook his head no as he pulled his cellphone out with trembling hands.

“Hello?” The half asleep voice on the other end spilled into the speaker and Gerard flinched.

“Mikey,” He felt too guilty to even say it. “It’s Frank. He’s- he got hurt. And he’s in the hospital.”

“Oh, shit.” There was sound of movement on the other end. “What hospital?”

“St. Rose of Mary’s.” Gerard sniffled into the phone. “It’s my fault, fuck I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” Mikey’s voice began to sound clearer and Gerard felt a sense of relief, already knowing that he was getting up and ready to get to the hospital.

“I’m fine. He just…” Gerard whined involuntarily and began to cry again. “He overdosed. On accident.”

“Are you going to stay at the hospital?” Mikey asked.

“Uh huh.” Gerard bit at his nails, wanting to see Frank already.

“I’ll see you in an a little bit. Stay safe, it’s gonna be okay.” Mikey said into the phone, the sound of the car door slamming fell into the receiver.

Gerard sighed against the padded chair and laid his head on the wall behind him. “See you then. Drive safe.” He clicked the call off and shut his eyes.

-

“Gerard?” Mikey laid a hand on his shoulder and he woke up slowly, looking in at his surroundings and beginning to look almost ill.

“Fuck. It was real.” He grunted as he sat up.

“Here,” He handed him a cup. “I went and got you some coffee. Figured you’d need it.” He fell into the seat next to him and began bouncing his leg.

Gerard glanced at his watch. “You got here fast.”

“Not much traffic at two am.” He sipped at his coffee. “Hear anything from the doctors?”

“No, I passed out right after I called you.” He swallowed a mouthful of the bitter, hot coffee and ignored the stinging in his throat. “Haven’t heard anything.”

“What happened?” Mikey gulped and looked at the ceiling.

“I should have known. He was acting weird all week.” Gerard felt strange, like this wasn’t real but too real at the same time.

“It isn’t your fault.” Mikey shook his head.

“I had to stay out late to work on my art project and to study for my finals. I called Frank and let him know and he sounded fine on the phone. He didn’t answer the first times because he said he was asleep, but something felt off about it.” He took another drink of coffee to stop his voice from shaking. “I just ignored it though. So I went and I ate, I studied, then I went to the studio to start painting. I took the bus home and when I got there Frank was on the floor without a shirt on. He looked like he was shivering, but he was sweating too. It sounds weird, but his lips almost looked blue and his eyes were really far away.”

“Shit, blue?” Mikey raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. And he kept begging to be able to go to sleep and that nothing else mattered. He told me he took too many pills and then I drove him to the hospital. He passed out on the way over and wouldn't wake up.” He choked on his words. “God, he looked so fucking scared Mikey. He threw up and when he looked at me he looked fucking terrified. I should have been there, this is awful.” He dropped his head in between his knees, setting his coffee down. “I feel sick.”

“This is fucking awful. But it isn’t your fault. It was Frank’s decision to take the pills. Gerard, you can’t blame yourself for this. It isn’t your fault. Go fucking easy on yourself.” He rubbed on Gerard’s clammy back.

“What if he’s really hurt? Like a coma?” Gerard mumbled, his head still hung between his knees.

“Then we’ll handle it. Frank’s a tough fuckin’ dude, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” Mikey tried to life Gerard’s spirits.

“He was scared. He was so fucking scared.” Gerard began to rock slightly, feeling dizzy. “What if he doesn’t make it?” Gerard whispered.

“Hey, Gerard.” Mikey held onto his hunched over body. “Don’t say that right now. Just breathe, calm down. It’s gonna be okay. We just have to wait for the doctor to come out and let us know what's going on. Frank's tough.” For the first time since he got here, Gerard heard Mikey's voice crack. "He's gonna be okay." It came out as more of a question and when Gerard looked up into his eyes, they were stained with tears.

"Yeah, Mikes." He sat up and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling his closer. "Frank is tough as _fuck_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read my story tysssm. i really do appreciate all the feedback and kudos. all of you are so great. :-)


	18. Eighteen

Mikey was on his third cup of too sweet coffee. The woman at the checkout in the cafeteria had asked him if he was alright the last time and he just stared stared at her, trying to pull out a response, but it wouldn't come. Eventually she slid the cup back to him and told him it was on her. He nodded and opened his mouth to thank her, but still, nothing came. He was trying to take it easy, trying to keep himself from drinking his body weight in coffee. But no one had come out and told him what was going on with Frank. 

He hadn't heard anything from doctors, and Gerard was such a mess. God knows how much of a credible source he was. He started to chew on his bottom lip as he started running every possible scenario in his head, each one worse than the previous. His stomach began to twist. Gerard laid his head on his shoulder, in a light sleep. He promised he would be awake to know what was going on, but sleep crept up on him and dragged him under. Mikey bounced his leg as he looked hopefully at every person in scrubs who walked past him. They each looked pitiful towards him; though he figured he was looking at them, practically begging for anything. He began to wonder if Frank was really going to be okay. He choked on his tears and let one fall. Even though Gerard wasn’t awake to see, he hurriedly wiped the tear from his cheek. Sure, he and Frank weren’t  _ super _ close, but they were good friends. He didn’t want to lose him. And he knew if Gerard lost him, he’d be a complete wreck. Frank didn’t have the right to die.

“Hello, are you family of Mr. Iero?” A man in dark blue scrubs approached Mikey.

“Yeah, we are. H i.” He wasn’t sure if Frank was hurt so bad, visitation was family only, so he accepted his new last name for now. He pushed Gerard awake who gasped when he saw the doctor.

“Is Frank okay?” Gerard cleared his throat of sleep.

“He’s going to be fine. There was no significant damage." The doctor studied their sad faces. "You two look upset, no need. You got him here  _ just _ in the nick of time.” The doctor nodded to Gerard and let out a dry laugh.

“Oh, thank God.” Mikey let out a sigh, feeling worry begin to melt from him.

“Yeah, I’m fucking upset.” Gerard grumbled. “Can I go see him?”

“He’s not awake, h-”

“Oh fuck, is he in a coma? Shit, _fuck_ _me_.” Gerard rubbed his face roughly.

“No,” The doctor held his hand out toward him and shook his head. “He’s not in a coma. He just needs to rest. He’ll be good as new in a day or two. I can assure you, he is not and will not go into a coma.”

“Can I see him? Where is he?” Gerard asked again.

“Yes, you can visit him. Careful not to wake him.” The doctor said, pointing to the doors Frank was previously dragged through on a gurney. “Go through those doors and onto the elevator. Fourth floor, room C27.”

“Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much.” Gerard disappeared through the doors. Mikey collected both their coats and had to jog to follow his fast pace and make it into the same elevator Gerard had hopped into.

In the elevator, Gerard tapped his foot impatiently and held onto the rail, willing the box to lift them faster. He felt agitated by the smell of the hospital cleanser wafting into his nose. The doors hissed and the bell chimed as they reached the fourth floor. Gerard looked to his left and saw the first room labeled C1. He mumbled something that resembled ' _you've got to be fucking kidding me_ ' and began to sprint down the hall. His legs felt wobbly, but he continued running, not slowing until he reached the twenties. He slowed to a jog around 23, creeping along the doors until C27 caught his eye. Mikey staggered behind, breathing heavily, surprised at how amazingly out of shape he was.

Strangely, Gerard felt unable to push the handle down once his fingers slowly wrapped around the cold metal. His hand wouldn't lower any weight onto it. He stared at it, waiting for the handle to push itself down. He gasped for air, not realizing he was holding his breath. His trembling fingers wrapped themselves around the handle, but his arm wouldn't dare comply to push the door open. His head dropped and he stared at the floor. The seconds passing felt like hours.

“Gerard?” Mikey looked at him, worried. “You okay?”

“I can’t. I- what if he looks like he did last night?” His voice shook and a tear fell onto the linoleum floor. “He looked so sick. I don’t think I can see him like that again. God, he looked so, so fucking sick, Mikes.”

“Hey. Stay here. You want me to go see him first and let you know how he looks?” Mikey offered, gripping Gerard’s shoulders and leading him to a chair sat against the wall. Gerard nodded. "Wait here, I'll go check it out."

“Yeah.” He breathed out, lowering his face into his hands. “Thanks, Mikes.”

“Breathe, you heard the doctor. He’s okay. Not in a coma.” He patted Gerard’s shoulder. “Good as new in twenty four hours.”

“I know.” Gerard nodded. “Good as new in twenty four hours.” He repeated to himself, trying to make it feel real. "Good as new in twenty four hours. Good as new in twenty for hours."

“Stay here. You’ll feel better when you see him healthy. Good as new in twenty four hours.” Mikey slipped into the dark room, feeling a wave a panic and fear hit him. He tried to shake it off, but it lingered in the heavy, sick air.

Only a single lamp light hung over the bed was turned on and shining dimly on Frank's soft features. The blinds were open, letting in the blue fuzz of the first dawn light. He crept over to the bed where Frank lay, the hard soles of his shoes clicked against the hard floor and he cringed at the quietness. The only noise in the room being the machines hooked up to Frank's body. The nasal cannula tube lay softly at his nose, across his cheeks and around his ears, pumping slow, steady oxygen into his nose. Mikey reached out to touch his face. He was warm- a good sign, though a little  _ too  _ warm. His nose and lips were pink, the colors they normally were. But the skin around his eyes looked dark. Pained, even though they were still closed. Frank’s chest rose and fell rhythmically along with the heart monitor. His irises sat ghostly still under his eyelids and Mikey wondered if he was dreaming.

“Hey.” His voice scared him at first, he didn’t realize it was his own. “Hey, asshole.” He chuckled. “You have no idea how fucking relieved I am that you’re alive. Gerard’s a mess, though. He’s too scared to see you sick, but I think once he sees you, he’ll get over it. You don’t look as bad as I thought you would. Your hair does look gross, though.” He felt himself relax more as he talked to Frank even though he was sleeping. “Also, I heard about your gig. And honestly, I’m a little offended that I wasn’t invited. I wanna be invited to the next show or else I’m gonna kick your fuckin’ ass. And I want to meet your band mates. Is the bassist in your band like me? Gerard always said a lot of bassists have similar personalities, so I was just wondering if that's even true.” Mikey laughed. “I should probably get Gerard before he drives himself crazy out there. Bye, Frank.” He ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourself, please.” He patted his chest twice before he slipped back out the door and into the hall, sighing.

"Does he look sick?” Gerard looked up as soon as the door clicked shut. He chewed on his nails. "Or like a corpse?"

“No, he just looks like he’s sleeping.” Mikey shook his head. “That tube in his nose is gross- the air one, and his hair looks gross too, greasy. Hospitals are gross. But no, he looks alive.” 

Gerard laughed dryly. “His hair was pretty much soaked with sweat, that’s why.” He pulled himself out of the chair and pushed the door open with all the weight he could muster. Before he felt like he was going to fall over and faint from nerves, he spilled into the room, sighing shakily as he found himself on the other side of the closed door. He walked over to the bed, following the sound of the heart monitor with his head down, his eyes projected to the floor. “Frank?” He breathed out, finding himself above him.

His head laid on the hospital pillow, facing up to the ceiling. The blanket they put over him was pulled up to his chest and straightened out over his body. Gerard knew he hadn't woken up yet. When Frank sleeps, he always gets too hot after a while and throws the covers off his body. His chest lifted and dropped down easily, almost mechanically. But, Gerard was glad to see nothing aiding his breathing. Glad that he could do it on his own. 

He pulled the chair from against the wall and sat it next to Frank before sitting in it. He interlaced his fingers with Frank’s warm hand and sighed comfortably at the familiarity. Calmness spread through him as he found his body wasn't cold anymore. He looked at Frank’s face. His mouth sat lazily, with his lips parted and his top teeth exposed. He lowered his thumb and pressed it against Frank's wrist, feeling his pulse under his skin. Needed live confirmation that he was still alive. Still had his heart.

Gerard felt his own heart speed up, then he began to feel his own pulse with his other hand. His beating mixed with Frank's. He didn't remove his hand for a second, enjoying the feeling of their differing pulses together, merging slowly into one as they began to sync up. Gerard reached out with his free hand and stroked his cheek, no longer feeling the need to cry or be upset. The waves crashing in his stomach fell and calmed. Frank was okay.  _ Good as new in 24 hours.  _ He checked his watch; 4am. He lay his head down and closed his eyes, wanting to sleep in Frank’s presence. Hoping to have a dream this time around tonight.

-

Frank gasped as he woke up, the hospital smell lurching his stomach already. He opened his mouth to talk, but felt like the inside of his mouth was made of sandpaper. His tongue felt incredibly rough and sticky against the roof of his mouth, which hurt. He lifted his tongue to it and felt that it was damaged, yet nothing came to mind about he he'd done that. He pulled the short tubes from his nose, the oxygen coming out of them and blowing into his nose was annoying him. He looked at the bracelet around his wrist and read his name on the band, groaning in frustration. Gerard sat in a chair, his head laid on the bed next to Frank’s thigh. He ran a hand through his dark hair, wishing they got to eat dinner together instead.

He noticed the watch on his own wrist was gone and he looked at Gerard, squinting at the hands. Seven-eighteen am.

“M’not staying here.” Frank pulled the blanket off his body and tried to swing his legs off the bed, stopping when his whole body ached. The worst pain was in his head and stomach. It reminded him of when he was detoxing and had a sore feeling in his gut the whole time. “Fuck!” He cried out.

“Frank?” Gerard lifted his head off the mattress, calling out to him immediately. “You’re awake!” He smiled weakly, touching Frank’s arm.

“Gee!” He smiled despite how rough it felt on his throat to talk. He dropped his body onto Gerard's and wrapped his arms out in a tight hug. “Fuck, I’m so s-”

“No, shut up.” Gerard waved his hand. “Don’t apologize. I should have done better being there for you.” Frank opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but shut it again when he had nothing to say. Gerard kissed his cheek and let go of Frank. “I’ll be right back.” Gerard stood up. “I’m gonna get a nurse.”

"It's not your fault. It's mine. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get us in here, really." Frank plead as he watched Gerard leave the room.

Frank watched him leave, knowing how deeply and severely he'd wounded him. The guilt came in the form of a sharp stab to the front of his head and he groaned, laying his head against the wall behind him, starting to feel nauseous. The beeps that matched his own heartbeats made him feel even more nauseous and he yearned to leave the hospital. He wanted nothing more right now than to go home with Gerard, take a shower, have breakfast together, and take a long nap together. He let his mind wander in his fantasy on what he would have for breakfast with Gerard. Maybe french toast. Or just plain old pancakes.

“Mr. Iero?” A doctor held a clipboard in one hand and neared him, holding out his free hand. Frank took it and shook it, feeling like they’d met before. “I’m Doctor Howard. How are you feeling?”

“M’thirsty as fuck. My whole body hurts, its worst in my head and stomach. Have we met before?” He licked his chapped lips, barely making a difference in the hydration.

“I’ll have a nurse get you some water. You’re going to feel sore for a couple of days and no solid food until tomorrow at least. But you’ll be fine. Here,” The doctor held out a stack of brochures to Frank. “It’s not mandatory, but is highly recommended that you take a trip to one of these resorts.”

“Okay.” Frank whispered so his voice wouldn’t crack so obviously.

“Oh,” Dr. Howard stopped before he left through the door. “Yes, we met last night. I was your doctor. Feel better soon.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Frank nodded.

“What are those?” Gerard pointed to the pamphlets.

“Rehab.” Frank tossed the on the table next to him. “I’m not going to fucking rehab. I wanna go home.” He swung his legs off the bed, cringing at the pain, but pressing through.

“The doctor said you should stay the rest of the day.” Gerard quickly made his way to Frank to hold onto him so he wouldn’t fall.

“No, I wanna go home.” Frank shook his head. “I ruined dinner. Fuck. I really, really just wanted to make dinner for you.”

“I wasn’t hungry when I got home anyway.” Gerard smiled, watching Frank try to crawl from the bed. “Careful.” He held onto his hand for balance.

“Frank! You’re alive!” Mikey yelled with his hands up and a smile spread on his face.

“You think I’m ready to die? You must be pretty stupid.” Frank kept himself from laughing, knowing it would hurt his stomach too much.

“Asshole. You going home already?” Mikey pointed to his bare legs. He tip toed over to his bed. 

“Yup,” Frank dropped his gown off his shoulders, searching for his shirt. “I feel like new.”

“You look like shit.” Mikey laughed.

“He’s right. Not going home, by the way.” Gerard agreed.

“Dickheads.” Frank shook his head, pulling his arms into his shirt. “You drove all the way down here?” Frank realized that Mikey didn’t live close.

“No big deal. He shrugged, handing Frank his water bottle. “The freeways are empty at two in the morning.”

“Fuck, dude. Sorry.” Frank lifted the water to his dry lips and resisted the urge to chug it. Instead he took small sips, remembering when he was detoxing and puked up all his water when he would drink fast.

“I should probably get going home anyway.” Mikey sighed. “I have school.”

“Shit, dude. I feel like such a fucker.” Frank groaned.

“Dude, shut up.” He walked over to Frank and pulled him into a hug. “I’m just happy you’re alive and in one piece.” He let go of him. “See you soon.” Mikey walked to the door and stopped in the doorway. “Oh and by they way, fuck you. Why wasn’t I invited to your gig? Fucking tell me next time. Feel better.” Mikey slipped the rest of the way out.

“Shit.” Frank couldn’t help but laugh at Mikey’s attitude. He didn’t even mind the pain at this point.

“He’s an ass.” Gerard took the water bottle from Frank as he gave up leaving. He slid back onto the bed and under the blanket, cringing at having to hold his weight up. “But, Frank. You do need to do something. Maybe not rehab, but, I don’t know. Something.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Frank sighed. He tried to pull the blanket over his feet and hissed from the pain. “I can’t bend down, will you cover my feet? It's really cold to be naked in here.” He felt awful for asking, but Gerard pulled it over.

“Of course.” He covered them quickly, Frank noticed his hands were still shaking.

“N.A? Narcotics anonymous?” Frank offered. “I can get a sponsor and chips and the whole deal.”

“You’d do that?” Gerard stood up, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, I would.” He pecked Gerard’s cheek before letting his body fall back onto the mattress. “I really wanna get in our bed, what about you?” He wrapped an arm around Gerard's shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug. Gerard was careful at first, afraid of hurting Frank. But after a moment he began to squeeze him harder, trying to feel his whole body against his own.

“You have no fucking idea. But I need to shower first. Hospitals are so gross.” Gerard shivered, sighing into Frank's neck.

“You’re telling me.” Frank gestured to his greasy hair that sat pushed back away off his forehead.

Gerard laughed, covering his mouth. “Fuck, me.” He began to rearrange Frank's hair, trying his best to make it look less repulsive. “This whole situation is so fucked up.”

“Tell me about it.” Frank sighed and sank into his touch.

 

_

“I shouldn’t be here. I won’t get out.” Frank sat with his arms crossed in the passenger seat. He swallowed hard, feeling intimidated by the other addicts walking through the doors held open. “All the other people here look gross as fuck.” He pressed his cold, clammy fingers to his hot ears. “I- I’m not an addict, Gerard.” He turned his head over to look him in the eyes. Gerard’s eyes were glazed over with tears.

“You are an addict, Frank.” He said softly.

“No, the fuck I’m not.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Why are you upset with  _ me _ ?” Gerard threw his hands up to gesture to himself. “ _ You  _ need to take responsibility for this. For your repeated drug use.” Gerard cleared his throat, feeling it fill with a lump. “You almost fucking died, Frank.”

“Don’t.” Frank whispered. He laughed uneasily. “That doesn't make me an addict. It was an accident. Please-”

“Please what?” Gerard wiped roughly at his eyes to remove any tears. “Stop, alright. You need to realize this isn't only about  _ you  _ anymore. Maybe you were alone before, but now you have so many people who care about you. You aren’t alone anymore.” Gerard wanted to reach out to touch Frank but he felt stuck, stiff.

“I- Gerard. You don't get it.” Frank shook his head and pulled his hood up, trying to hide his face.

“Don’t get what?” He asked.

“That I- I don’t want to be a fucking junkie.” Frank’s voice cracked and he began to shake. “I’m not an addict. That isn't who i am. Junkies are fucking disgusting and dirty and selfish and I'm not! I'm not an addict! I'm not an addict! Lets go home! Please?” he trembled and kept his gaze in his lap.

“You’re not a  _ junkie,  _ alright? You  _ are  _ an addict. Look at me.” Gerard touched his shoulder and Frank jerked his body so it fell off. Gerard pulled the hood off his head and turned his neck to look him in the eye. His hands dug deep into his cheeks. “ _ You  _ are not disgusting, or dirty, and _you_ are not selfish. The pills, the heroin- _they’re_ selfish.”

“It’s not the drugs, Gerard.” He flexed his jaw, but Gerard’s hands didn't loosen up. “It’s  _ me.  _ Me being selfish and taking the drugs.” He laughed, a tear threatening to fall. “I have no control anymore. As soon as I woke up in the hospital I wanted a bump.” He laughed. Tears escaped from both eyes.

“Frank,” Gerard breathed out in surprise, loosening his grip, but his hands remained on his face. He began to wipe away his tears.

“I guess I  _ am  _ a fucking addict. Dirty junkie.” A painful sob escaped and he went limp. He rested his shoulder against the seat and pulled his knees up. “Gonna die alone and unloved. Born, lived, and died it.” Gerard let go of his face and he dropped it on the seat.

“You, fucking- Where have you been the past months?! Where?” He yelled. Frank flinched, but left his heavy body to lie. “Do you not remember anything that’s happened? Mikey, my mom, Kitty, your parents, fucking Fungus, Zip, Moat, Eugene, me?!”

“Gerard, calm down.” Frank’s tears burned his eyes.

“Alone?! No! You aren’t. You have so many people who care about you. Unloved?!  _ My fucking ass! _ ” Gerard shrieked. “Do you even have the slightest idea of how much I fucking love you, you dick!” He dropped his body on the seat, breathing heavily.

“You mean it? You really love me after everything I’ve done?” Frank spoke after a moment.

“Yeah, I really do.” Gerard closed his eyes as he felt like he was going to start crying again. He pushed his palms into his closed eyelids. 

“I’m sorry.” Frank held tightly onto Gerard’s arm. “I really love you and don’t want to part with you. Ever. I wanna die after growing into an old fart with you.” Gerard giggled and wiped his eyes harder, not moving his hands from his face. 

“I don’t want to see the world without you in it.” Gerard laid his head on top of franks and intertwined their fingers. 

“Will you walk me to the doors?” Frank wiped at his face with his sleeves. 

“Yeah,” Gerard breathed out, running a hand through his hair. He opened the car door. “Let’s go, i think it already started.”

“Shit.” Frank laughed and slid out of the passenger side. Gerard met him and they locked arms as they walked slowly. 

“I have to go to school for a while, my painting isn't done and the end of the semester is coming up.” Gerard shrugged. “You wanna get dinner after?”

“Yes, i really wanna get dinner.” Frank smiled and nodded. “What are you painting, anyway?” 

“It’s, um-” Gerard chewed on his lip. “Why don’t you just come see it at the art show?”

“That’s so cool that it's gonna be in an art show.” Frank stopped in front of the closed doors. 

“Everyone’s is going in the art show.” Gerard laughed.

“I don’t care about theirs. I just wanna see yours.” Frank poked him in the stomach.

“I’m excited for you to see it. Go in! Go in.” He swept his hand toward the door. “It already started.”

“I’m already late, Gee.” He laughed and neared him. He pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you for dinner?”

“See you then, have fun.” Gerard watched him open the door.

“It’s a narcotics anonymous meeting, I’m sure I’ll have a fucking blast.” He slipped inside.

-

Frank felt like a vulture, hunched over the snack table. The meeting had finished and he got a chip that had:  _ ‘Day 1: All success starts with simply beginning. _ ’ imprinted on it. He stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans and slid a donut onto a small plate. He headed over to the coffee pot and began filling a paper cup with the lukewarm liquid. 

“Ew,” He dropped the cup into the trash.

“The cold coffee?” The man standing next to him chuckled. 

“Mhm,” Frank nodded. “Is there anything to drink here but water or cold coffee?” 

“Nope,” He shook his head faking sadness. “They don’t allow us drug addicts caffeine. Only the brave ones can drink the coffee.” Frank laughed nervously, a surge of embarrassment smacked into his body. “I’m Ray.” He switched the topic abruptly, sensing how nervous Frank had become.

“Frank.” He held his hand to Ray. 

“Ex coke addict. Clean for five months.” He nodded proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Ex heroin, Ketamine, Oxycontin, and Percocet, addict. Clean for a day and-” Frank looked at his watch. “About eleven hours.” 

“We all have to start somewhere.” Ray offered, picking up a plain bagel. “So this is your first meeting?” 

“First ever.” Frank bit into his donut. “Guessing this isn't your first.”

“Nope.” Ray laughed. “I’ve lost count.” He began spreading strawberry cream cheese onto his bagel. “Came here on a court order. Got caught with coke, tested positive for it. Got lucky that they didn't have room. No one wants to kick out the murderers and rapists.”

“I would assume so.” Frank continued eating, watching how energetic Ray was. He internally scolded himself when he began to wonder if he really gave up the cocaine.

“So I just got off with thirty days of this. But I stuck around.” Ray shrugged. He took a  huge bite of his bagel. “What about you? What’s your story?”

“Oh,” Frank swallowed. “Boyfriend caught me with heroin. I tried to get clean on my own, it didn't go so well. Long story short, I overdosed on Oxy and Ketamine two nights ago. Doc gave me some rehab pamphlets. Me and the boyfriend compromised on NA instead. So here I am.” He shrugged. 

“Boyfriend, huh?” Ray asked, chewing. Frank nodded. “Wait- so you were on heroin, then got clean off it by yourself?”

“Mhm, that’s right. Well, my boyfriend did help me out. Without him, it wouldn’t have worked.” Frank took another bite.

“I can imagine. Shit, heroin detox?!” Ray hissed, still in disbelief. Frank nodded. “Never done it, but I’ve seen guys go through that. And  _ whew.”  _ He whistled. “That’s the most pain I’d ever seen a person in.”

“It was tough, yeah.” Frank laughed. “But it was worth it to keep me off. Every time I wanna shoot up I remember how much I vomited the third day.” He laughed dryly, knowing the joke was in poor taste. 

“Gross, I’m eating!” Ray laughed, taking another bite of his bagel. “Coke just leaves you super tired and with a headache.”

“So how do you stay off it? If you liked it so much?” Frank asked, genuinely interested.

“I drink  _ a lot  _ of coffee.” Ray and Frank both started laughing. “No, but seriously. I just remember how much my girlfriend and my friends and even my parents were hurt when i got arrested and caught with it. You know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Frank felt suddenly sad remembering how obvious the hurt was on Gerard and Mikey’s faces in the hospital.

“Hey, maybe someone already snatched you, but do you have a sponsor yet?” Ray asked.

“A what?” Frank mumbled through his donut.

“A sponsor. Like someone to keep you straight until you get completely clean. I had one. Kind of like what your boyfriend does now, I’m guessing, but you don’t have that emotional barrier and struggling in the relationship because of it. I know firsthand how rocky and gross and awful it is to have your partner as your sponsor.” Ray said.

“ _ Oh _ , I get it. Yeah, for sure. You wanna be my sponsor?”

“Yup, you can let your boyfriend off the hook.” Ray laughed.

“Thank God.” Frank started laughing too.

“Wanna get out of here and go get beers or something. You’re allowed to drink, right?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know, is it like… against the rules?” Frank began to chew on the inside of his cheek.

“Are you an alcoholic?” Ray finished off his bagel.

“No.” Frank shook his head.

“Me neither. You like beer?” He asked.

“Yes.” Frank nodded.

“Wanna go get a beer?” Ray laughed, holding his hands out to the open door.

“Yeah, I really do.” Frank chuckled and began walking out into the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much if you took the time to read! it means the world to me. :-))))))


	19. Nineteen

Frank laid in bed on his side, trying his best to not cry out at every pain that plagued his whole body. Getting off drugs always hurt. Even if it was just because he ran out of money and couldn't afford another bag of pills or heroin. But now he had a sense that his body knew it wasn't going to get any more drugs every again, and it was pissed. He wrapped his arms around his midsection and held himself tightly, afraid his stomach might explode.  Gerard lay behind him, tracing letters into his bare back with the soft tip of his index finger. Frank tried to decode the messages he was writing on his body. Frank liked doing this, but he really had to focus on his body. And right now, his body was sending him a big, sore, nauseous  _ fuck you. _

“You have to?” Frank moaned as Gerard finished writing the message ' _gotta go'_ on him.

“Sorry, pumpkin. It’s a huge canvas. I’m really sorry it's taking up all our time.” Gerard sighed. “Once this is over we can go on a trip or something.”

“I’m a drug addict, you’re a college student. What trip could we afford?” Frank asked into the pillow, a fresh wave of nausea hitting him and flipping his stomach.

“You’re right.” Gerard laughed, rolling onto his back, the late afternoon light warming his face. “Maybe we could just lock ourselves in the apartment for, like, a week.” He touched Frank’s warm, bare shoulder. “What do you think about that? Seven days just me, you, and Fungus.”

“Make it a month.” Frank grunted, rolling over to face Gerard. “We could go to the woods and stay there. For free. We could try living in the trees for the rest of our lives. It can't be all that bad, a ton of animals do it.”

“What about eating?” Gerard ran his finger along the contours of Frank’s thin face. “Would we hunt and gather?”

“For sure. We wouldn’t starve. And we could use the moss as blankets when he sleep.” Frank giggled.

“Leaves as toilet paper.” Gerard laughed. 

“We should! We don’t need money. I’m probably gonna get fired soon anyway, going to have to find a legit job.” Frank blew his hair out of his eyes.

“Why do you think you're gonna get fired?” Gerard asked, reaching out to touch Frank’s hair. It began to grow as long as it was when they had first met. “You haven’t told your boss why you’ve been gone so much?”

“No, I told him I had asthma. I made up some bullshit lie about having to go to a specialist to have my lungs checked out.” Frank scoffed at his own excuse. “He bought it and doesn't ask anymore when I take the day off, but I think he’s just getting annoyed.”

“Fuck that guy.” Gerard blew air out of his nose. He lifted Frank’s wrist to his eyes to check his watch for the time. “I have to leave in five minutes.”

“I  _ just  _ left work though, Gee.” Frank complained.

“We’ve been laying here for four hours now, Frank.” He brushed his hair back off his forehead.

“Oh,” Frank checked his watch. “Four and a half.” He sighed, accepting the time. “Okay, do a lot of work today so you don’t have to go back anymore.”

“I’m doing the most I can, I can’t rush it.” He slid out of the bed, picking up his shoes from the floor. 

“How much do you have done?” Frank pulled the blanket up to his chin. 

“Uh,” Gerard began to tie his laces. “More than half, around I’d say 68%.”

“Specific.” Frank watched him search the room for his belt. 

“Not quite seventy, not quite sixty five.” He found his belt and slid it through the loops in his jeans, tightened and fastened it. “Bye pumpkin, sleep on your side. Asphyxiation is a bitch.” Gerard pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“A mean bitch.” Frank agreed caressing Gerard’s face. He flipped onto his side and listened to Gerard prepare to leave.

Collecting his pencils and books off of the counter. Sliding them carefully into his bag, the materials clunking together anyway. Grunting as pulled his coat on, brushing it off with his hands of any miscellaneous dust or hair. Swiping the keys off the counter. Grabbing a fruit off of the counter. Sliding that into his bag too. Unlocking the door. Leaving. Locking the door. Silence.

Frank didn’t know which idea he hated more. Lying in silence or choking to death on his own vomit in his sleep.

Probably the alone silence.

-

The rounded corners of his notebook sat pressed into hand as he held it open to write. __ In the middle of emptying his stomach of any and all contents he had, song ideas began to float into his head. He gagged, the feeling of needing to puke again hitting him, but he didn't budge from his spot. He knew his stomach was empty and he was just heaving. And he didn't want to take a second of a break from spilling his feelings onto the lined paper.  He finished scribbling the last word and sat back with a relieved sigh. He felt his heart speed up and his body flush with hot temperature. As he read it back to himself, his lips moving ever so slightly with each word, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Feeling like the surface of what he wanted to share through music was beginning to become scratched. He made a mental note to keep digging. Keep writing until the lyrics felt right.

“Shit,” He flinched when his phone began to ring. “Hello?” He held it up to his ear.

“Frank! He lives! Where have you been, man?” Zip yelled from the other end. Frank held it a couple inches from his ear.

“Home, man. What’s up?” Frank laughed.

“Why have you been home?” Zip pressed.

“Really wanna know?” Frank sighed.

“Why else would i have asked? Tell me what's up dude.” Zip cleared his throat.

“Uh,” Frank swallowed and pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Kind of had a, like, a overdose. Long story short. Had to join narcotics anonymous, but getting more sober by the minute.”

“Are you okay?! Fuck!” Zip yelled, somehow louder than before.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Frank yelled over Zip into the phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back at practice soon.”

“I’m not worried about that. I just want you to get better. What’d you OD on?” He asked.

“Oxy. Gerard found me and took me to the hospital. I got lucky that he found me, but I feel awful that he had to.” Frank slumped down.

“I can’t even imagine.” Zip sighed, talking at a normal volume. “Are you guys going to be okay? Your relationship?”

“Yeah,” Frank answered immediately. “We… love each other. You know? We’re gonna stick together. I really wanna stay with him.” 

“For sure.” Zip’s voice was rising. “Remember what your top priority is.”

“I will, I know.” Frank felt himself begin to want to cry. “He’s always been my number one.” He inhaled deeply to get rid of the tears. “Are we going to play a show again any time soon? I’m really missing that.” 

“Yeah!” Zip laughed. “That’s actually what I was calling about. We’ve got another show booked in, like, a week I think. We were all wondering when you’d be back at practice.” 

“Oh, I definitely wanna play.” Frank laughed and began towards the room that contained his guitar and amp. “When are you guys practicing again?”

“Wanna come tomorrow night? After work and everything? Eugene should be home from school around five-ish. Moat gets off at three.” Zip was yelling like normal again.

“I’ll be there.” Frank smiled to himself, feeling things come together again. “Around eight?” 

“Nice, see you then.” A smile was present in Zip’s voice. “Feel better, Frank. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Zip. I will.” He hung up. 

He gripped the guitar by the neck and slid it into his lap. Switched the amp on. And began tuning the guitar. The familiarity of the strings against his fingertips set in the bottom of his stomach, relaxing it. The soft sounds of the chords coming from the amp floated through the air and landed in his ears, seeped down to his throat and down into his stomach. It hung lightly in their and neutralized the feelings of nausea. The knots inside came undone.  

-

 

Gerard dug the spoon into the soft ice cream and neared it to Frank’s mouth. They had been lying together on the couch feeding each other spoonfuls of cherry ice cream since Gerard had come home from the studio with it. It had been sitting out for so long, there was a layer of the melted ice cream in the pint above a chunk of some that was still frozen.

“Gerard?” Frank broke the tired silence.

“Hm?” He cleaned the spoon off with his own tongue and dropped it in the cardboard container. 

“When’s your art show?” He closed his eyes, the feeling of a full stomach inducing the need for sleep.

“In three weeks. Why?” He dropped his head on Frank’s shoulder and shut his own eyes.

“I wanna see your piece soon? Is it almost finished?” His voice was low, filling the air with a want to sleep.

“I have a few touch ups to make, but after that it’ll be done.” He shrugged.

“Can I see it before the show?” Frank asked.

“Of course. Do you want to go to the school and look at it once its done?” Gerard rubbed his thumb lightly above Frank’s elbow.

“I do.” He yawned. “Oh, guess what.” 

“What?” He inhaled deeply, taking in Frank’s scent.

“I got a sponsor in NA. His name’s Ray. Also, the band has another show coming up soon.” He turned his head to look at Gerard’s face.

“You have a sponsor  _ already _ ?” Gerard laughed lightly. “Amazing, I’m really happy about that.” He planted a kiss under Frank’s cheekbone. “And another show? Are you going to invite Mikey this time or accept your ass beating?” He joked.

“I’m not sure which would be worse.” Frank giggled. “I think I’ll take the ass beating.” 

“I’d take that too.” Gerard laughed. “What did you do today?”

“I wrote some lyrics. Wrote some other stuff. Watched some TV. Wrote some music and played some old songs. Talked to Zip. Ate an orange. Puked up an orange.” He held his fingers up as he listed things. 

“Eventful.” Gerard yawned.

“What’d you do?” He reached his arm up and gingerly touched his face.

“Well, I took the bus to the school. Met my professor and he gave me the keys to the studio to lock up once I left. Told me to leave them with the receptionist in the office. I painted for about three consecutive hours. Got into an argument with the custodian because I spilled a can of yellow paint on the floor. Bought a sandwich and a coffee. Ate said sandwich and coffee. Painted for another three and a half hours. Bought a pint of ice cream. Came home. Ate said ice cream.”

“Very eventful.” Frank giggled, wiping a sticky stain of ice cream off the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “Oh shit.” Frank gasped.

“What?” Gerard’s eyes snapped open.

“We didn’t eat dinner together. And I was going to call you earlier and ask what you wanted to eat. Shit.” Frank huffed.

“We did eat dinner together. Look.” Gerard pointed at the almost empty container of melted ice cream on the floor.

“That isn’t dinner, Gee.” Frank chewed on his lip.

“Why isn’t it?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

“Because it’s  _ ice cream _ . It isn’t dinner.” The disappointment in his voice was obvious.

“There’s no law that says you can’t have ice cream for dinner. And I see no moms around here, so why not?” Gerard poked him in the stomach to try to lift his spirits.

“I guess so.” He sighed.

“Well, do you want to get something to eat right now? The diner around the corner is still open and the food’s alright.” Gerard offered, sitting up off the couch.

“I feel like if I swallowed anything else, my stomach would rip open and my whole body would be filled with cherry ice cream.” Frank held his stomach with both hands. His fingers sprawled out.

“So that’s a no?” Gerard looked at him with droopy eyes.

“I never said no.” Frank shook his head standing up. “Woah.” He held tighter onto his stomach. “Dense.” 

“I can’t eat anymore either.” Gerard stretched, his body popping in various places.

“You tired?” Frank yawned.

“So tired.” Gerard yawned back after seeing Frank do it.

“Bedtime?” He offered his hand.

“Bedtime.” Gerard took it, following Frank into the bedroom. 

-

 

Frank let out a low whine along with a heavy exhale. The feeling of Gerard's fingers gripping his bare skin sent a feeling of relief through him. The sound of Gerard breathing raggedly made him weak, unable to do anything but push against his touch. The warmth coming from his mouth meeting his skin was enough to make him melt against the sheets. 

They both had to be up in a few hours for school and work, but a quick, simple goodnight kiss had escalated unexpectedly. Frank pecked his lips against Gerard's, pulling the sheets over his legs. Gerard opened his mouth and moaned, they both leaned back a centimeter, surprised. Since getting sober, Frank's libido was nearly gone. He hadn't even thought of pushing time aside for anything remotely sexual. But once Gerard opened his mouth, he took it as an invitation he could not pass up. 

He leaned back in and pushed his lips into Gerard's still parted ones. Almost immediately, Gerard had sat up and gripped Frank by his sides and pulled him into his lap. He settled his legs on either side of Gerard, holding his face. Desperately trying to feel everything he could in the moment.  The feeling of his smooth skin along his face. His soft hair falling over his cheeks. Long eyelashes fluttering against Frank's cheekbones. His fingertips pushing deep into his skin, begging for more contact. Begging him not to leave. 

“I love touching you.” Frank whispered. 

“You’re so warm.” Gerard pushed his cheek against the side of Frank's face, kissing just in front of his ear. Frank shuddered at the delicate sound his lips made. 

“Please hold me closer.” Frank begged, pushing his hips in closer to Gerard's stomach. 

Gerard sat up, taking Frank with him, and flipped them over. Frank laid on his back, his arms still wrapped around Gerard's neck. He opened his legs far enough so he could fit between them. Then he closed them and trapped him between, leaving no wiggle room. He rubbed his feet on the back of Gerard's legs, feeling the hair move. Needing to enjoy every bit of his physical form. Gerard lowered his body onto Frank, putting his whole body weight on him. Then he rested his head in the crook of his neck. 

“Like this?” He inhaled the sweet scent from his neck, feeling his earlobe rest against the bridge of his nose. 

“Closer.” Frank inserted his fingers into the hair on the back of Gerard's head, combing through. 

Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank's torso, holding onto him tightly. Frank inhaled, his rib cage expanding, Gerard let go slightly but Frank tightened his own grip. Once his lungs had began to deflate, he tightened his grip again. He wanted to hold him as close as he could, not suffocate him. Frank began kissing Gerard's neck and he lifted up his face, wanting them to land there. Frank got the hint and began kissing up from his jawline to his cheek, Back down to his chin, a few on his nose, on his closed eyelid, then he worked his way down to his lips. Gerard sat through the whole process, patient.

Frank was urgent, needed to touch and be touched where it felt right and good immediately. He had no time to waste. He was loud and passionate. Never daring to hold back a moan, scream, groan, whine, anything. He worked fast, but made the effort to  _ feel  _ everything he could feel while it was happening. But tonight, he was making the conscious decision to be slow. Take all the time he possibly could. Didn't dare to rush anything. Even Gerard began to feel a bit restless. 

“I love you.” Gerard said against Frank's mouth. 

“I fucking love you so much.” He moaned, his nails beginning to press into Gerard's bare back. “You're beautiful. You make me feel beautiful.” Frank dragged his nails down a bit and Gerard arched his back. 

“You are so beautiful.” He moaned, wanting Frank to pull his nails down more. “Scratch me again, please.” He whispered directly in his ear. 

Frank felt goosebumps rise on his arms and he felt a shiver go through his core. He lowered his nails into the soft skin of Gerard's hot back and let them rest there for a moment. Needing to remember what it felt like to have his nails pushed in his flesh. He licked the inside of Gerard's mouth and dragged them down slowly. His back arched again, his torso pressing hard against Frank's. He could feel his ribs pressing through his skin. Only separated from Frank's ribs by two thin slivers of skin. The thought made him moan and he inadvertently pressed his nails harder in and pulled down, feeling the skin rip underneath. Gerard gasped and dropped his head down. 

“Did I hurt you?” Frank butterflied his fingers over where his nails previously were. A hot, sticky liquid residue was left on his hand and even in the dark, Frank recognized it as blood. “Fuck, are you okay, Gee? I didn't mean-”

“Will you do that again?” Gerard spoke, his lips rubbing against his neck. 

“Will I… again?” Frank asked, the pressure of Gerard's warm body on his felt like a state of euphoria. 

“It felt good. I liked that.” Gerard nodded. “The last time, when you did it hard.”

“Gerard, you're bleeding.” Frank wiped another drop of blood onto his fingertip and held it up to show him. “Look, you want me to do it that hard?”

“Fuck, I didn't know I was bleeding.” Gerard studied the shimmering drop of blood in the moonlight. “Yeah, that's really hot, would you do that again?”

“Yeah I'll fuckin’ do that again.” Frank began pushing hard kisses against Gerard's neck once again. 

He teased his back, slightly pushing the tip of his nail against the skin and dragging it across. Gerard would exhale heavily and mask it with a kiss when Frank would pass the previously rolled spots of skin. Gerard held his out sprawled fingers on Frank's diaphragm, slowly creeping his way up. As he reached his collarbone, Gerard placed his thumb into the dip. He pushed with slight pressure and Frank arched his back, his nails digging a bit deeper into the skin. He continued to drag them across, so close to tearing the skin. Gerard dragged his teeth, smiling against his neck, before biting down ever so slightly. Frank caved and dug his nails in deep, clawing to the feeling Gerard was giving him, then tearing his skin. 

“Gerard?” Frank held onto his shoulders. Before he answered, Gerard groaned into his neck. “I… came.” He chuckled, hiding his face.

“Me too, pumpkin.” Gerard rolled off him, both of them breathing heavily. “Me too.”

-

 

“What if when Frank starts the lone strumming, I come in after a few counts with light notes?” Most suggested, chewing on a guitar pick.

“Like what kind of notes?” Zip looked up from wiping his cymbals. 

“Something like this, Frank can you start?” Moat reached his leg out and nudged Frank. Who quickly began strumming the lone strumming. “Then,” Moat began lightly plucking strings on his base, coming in subtly. “Like this.” 

“Oh, I like that.” Eugene said from the couch, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “The subtlety was, I think, the missing piece in that song.” 

“I do too. I think that sounds a lot better now.” Frank said, hunched over his fret board, placing his fingers in various ways. “Though, I think after we do that, me and Moat, the song should just be silent for a second or two, then everyone should come in at once. You know what I mean?”

“That's sounds cool, I wanna try it.” Zip said, quickly fixing the alignment of his crash cymbal. 

Together they began playing the song, neither guitars hooked up to the amps, and Zip hitting the drums as soft as he possibly could as to not drown out their sound. Eugene sang from where he sat on the couch. As the part where Frank played alone came along he looked at Moat while he played. In their heads they both counted to eight four times, then Moat began in with his bass. Frank felt goosebumps rise on his arms as he began to play exactly where he had wanted him to without discussion. He nodded once to Moat and they both stopped playing, Frank counted to 8 out loud, then the whole band began to play together again. 

“Yes! Did anyone else like that?” Frank felt a warmth settle in the top of his belly. 

“I thought it sounded fucking wicked. Z, Eugene?” Moat smiled and looked to the other two expectantly.  

“I won't play it any other way, that felt really right. That time was perfect.” Zip leaned back on his stool, resting the back of his head against his palms. He leaned back down and started polishing his cymbals again. 

“I liked it a lot better that way too.” Eugene nodded, scratching out his last note and writing a new one. 

“You ready for the show, Frank?” Moat grinned at him from across the mat on the floor. “I heard a rumor going around that we already have a few fans and that they're coming specifically to see  _ us  _ play.” 

“Is that true?” Frank's eyes went wide. “Where'd you hear that?”

“Some friends in the punk scene. They said those kids asked where we were playing next. And when someone told them they asked to be let know asap.” Moat nodded, trying to contain his own excitement. 

“You're fucking with me.” Frank laughed. “That's gotta be a joke.”

“No joke.” He drew an X shape over his heart. “Cross my heart.”

“Hope to die?” Zip mumbled from his drum set. 

“Stick a needle in my eye.” Moat finished the rhyme. He held his hand up in the air, exposing his palm to Frank.

“I actually feel worse than before.” He shuddered, pulling his guitar strap off his body. “Now people are expecting us to be  _ good _ .” 

“If we weren't good before, they have no right to expect us to be good this time around.” Moat laid on his back, his bass resting on his belly. 

“We were good last time!” Zip gasped, offended. 

“We could've done better.” Eugene said. “But we did do great for our first time, I'll give us that.”

“Plus, these are punk kids. How  _ good  _ could they possibly expect us to be?” Frank shrugged. 

“If they're fans from last time, they obviously saw something in  _ us  _ that they  _ liked.  _ I think we'll be alright the second time around. At least we know what to expect.” Moat offered. 

“I gotta get home, I'll see you guys tomorrow at the venue.” Frank stood up. 

“Leaving so soon?” Eugene muttered around the pen. 

“It's almost ten, you guys. Some of us have day jobs.” Frank joked as he packed up his guitar and left through the garage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more chapters coming soon. thank you all for taking the time to read, you're all so lovely.


	20. Twenty

Frank wiped at his face, the sweat coming off and dampening his hand. He struck the last chord rather roughly on his guitar and let it ring out. He pushed his chest out, standing up tall, looking at the faces of people in the crowd. Not everyone looked too happy that they were up there, borderline annoyed. Fair enough. But there were people who looked happy to see them. He assume they were the fans Zip was talking about at practice a while ago. He began to laugh, making brief eye contact with every smiling face he saw below. He waved to some. 

Zip took the opportunity to engage with fans with the few seconds the band had left on stage before the lights dimmed and the band had to take their queue to leave. He stood up from his drum stool and began to blow kisses at the crowd. Some people, who were the disinterested, frowning faces Frank had seen before, began to boo him, trying to get the band offstage as soon as possible. The fans interacted though, began cheering, pretending to catch the kisses he was blowing, and laughing with the band. Normally, the negative attention of people not liking the kind of music Frank played would get to him, bring him down. But tonight, after their set, it was easy to just let it roll right off his back. The gratitude of the people cheering them on pretty much faded out any kind of aversion to the music some people were throwing the band's way. As the lights fell, the band left the stage, back into the familiar room.

“All attention is good attention.” Zip rested his head on Moat’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. He felt the sweat from his forehead begin to seep through Moat's t-shirt, but ultimately decided he wouldn't mind.

“No,” He chuckled, using a towel to dry his hair of sweat. “But, to you, I guess bad attention is better than no attention.”

Frank pulled his guitar off his body, setting it into the case. He was confident about his performance tonight. He had only messed up notes and such a few times, but not noticeably. The changes the band had made beforehand had gone over mostly smooth during the show. He felt drained of energy now, having used it all on stage. 

“I’m gonna go over to the bar. Get some water. Want me to bring anything back?” Frank offered, pulling his shirt off. At the last show, he had wished he had a dry shirt to change into, so this time he packed one in his guitar case. 

“No, that’s cool.” Eugene answered, yawning. He fell onto the droopy couch, trying not to think about how dirty the cushions must be.

“Me neither.” Moat shook his head.

“I’m good.” Zip threw his drumsticks in with Moat’s bass in its case. “Your boyfriend bring friends this time?”

“What do you mean?” Frank pulled the dry shirt over his head. 

“Saw him in the crowd with some skinny guy. You know him?” He put the drumsticks in the case again after Moat tossed them out onto the saggy couch. 

“Oh, that’s probably his brother.” Frank nodded, locking his guitar case. 

“Brother in law.” Moat chuckled. “Sweet, get over there, Frank.”

“Are you guys sticking around?” Frank asked the three.

“I’m heading home.” Eugene yawned. “I have class tomorrow and I have to take everyone’s gear back home. You want me to take your guitar? Its no hassle.” He offered.

“Sure, that’d be great, thanks.” Frank slid the case over to his feet. “You two?” He pointed towards Moat and Zip.

“No, we’re probably gonna go hang out at Moat’s place.” Zip said and Moat nodded. “It’s close to here. 

“Cool, I’m gonna head over to Gerard now. See you guys later.” Frank left, the boys collectively saying their goodbyes to him. He leaned on the bar counter, sliding onto a stool. He asked for a water and the bartender nodded. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing for a short moment. Rather than tuning out the chatter around him while the thirty minute transition for the next band was happening, he listened closely. Tried to hear others' conversations. 

“Hey, me and my friends like your band.” A voice from behind him said. He turned around.

“Really?” He laughed. The boy nodded his head eagerly. “It’s an honor, thanks. Wanna sit?” He offered him the stool next to him.

“I’m Max, by the way.” The boy sat down. He shifted his weight awkwardly. “I was at the last show too.” He swallowed hard, fidgeting with his fingers folded in his lap.

"Ah, the first one. That one was rough." Frank laughed. "I have yet to figure out how we gained fans from that show. We were all scared and so nervous, it was so difficult to play the songs right. I think I messed up about a million times."

"Well, that's kind of what I liked about your band, you know?" Max sighed. "All these other dudes on stage are so... I don't know. Robotic." He grimaced and looked at where the crowd was standing, waiting for the next band. "It's all the same."

"They're prepared. We should have spent more time practicing, I think." Frank shrugged. 

"What, are you embarrassed about how it turned out?" Max looked away from the crowd to Frank.

"No, not embarrassed." He quickly answered. "Just like we were under prepared."

"Oh, I see." Max huffed. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

“No, not at all. I’m actually _eager_ to be talking to you. Our drummer, Zip, said we had fans and I didn't really believe him until now.” Frank lifted his water to his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed as he swallowed. He began to sense a sort of uncomfortable energy coming from Max. “What’s up?” He studied his face, trying to find out what was bothering the poor boy.

“Is it true?” Max blurted out, scooting closer to the edge of the cushion on his stool. “I don’t mean to pry, I just-”

“Is what true?” Frank sipped on his water. 

“Well, I just- uh, I heard that you’re gay.” Max chuckled awkwardly. 

“I like men, yeah, but why’s that important?” Frank began to a bit defensive and consciously had to hold the thought to not get to worked up.

“Well, I mean…” The boy leaned in a bit closer. “I don’t want anyone to know- you’re gonna be the first person I tell. I’m…” Max’s voice began to shake and he whispered. “I’m gay.” He sighed heavily, letting his lungs deflate completely. He blinked rapidly and laughed breathily. His shoulders began to relax of all tension they held. “That felt… really fucking good to say.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m gay.” He repeated himself, with his voice this time. “And I just came out.”

“Fuckin'-A, way to go Max!” Frank put his hand on Max’s shoulder for a second and shook him softly. “It means a lot that you chose me to come out to. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Really?” Max backed up to his original position and rubbed at his eyes. Frank nodded. “I’m a really huge fan of your band, especially your playing. You’re really good. I was asking around to see if anyone had any recorded tapes. You know, like bootlegged the show? But no one had recorded it. I was really bummed.” He laughed.

“You like our music that much from two shows?” Frank smirked. “We must be doing something right, then. You know, I heard there would be fans showing up soon and I got real, real nervous about it. But now, talking to you, not so much.” 

“What's that song you guys played I think second or third? The slower one where you mention Romeo and Juliet and the stuff they drank."  Max asked. "I remember you guys played that at the first one too and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

“Oh, that one doesn't really have a title.” Frank laughed. He grabbed the bartenders attention with the raise of his hand and pointed to his glass.

“I don't know that it needs one. It's about a relationship, isn't it?" Max began to relax, a little less nervous about talking with Frank. "At least, that's what I got out of it."

“It is, actually . My current relationship with my boyfriend, Gerard.” Frank began to scan the people around the club, looking for Gerard's face.

"That's so cool. I just really wanted to thank you." Max began to look around too, knowing he didn't know what he looked like, but hoping he'd stick out like a sore thumb among the rest of the punks crawling around the place.

"No, I should be thanking you." He began to pull money from his wallet to tip the bartender. "Without you, our band would be nothing. I hope you find someone with the recorded tape, Max. But when we do record our music, I'll be sure to let you know right away." Frank promised.

“Well, I think you being open about being gay is really great for people like me. Who knows, I might get the courage to finally officially come out to other people now because of you. I just came out to you for Christ sake.” He laughed, throwing his head back.

“Don’t feel afraid to come out to people you trust, Max. Don’t let that fear hold you forever.” Frank laughed with him. “Be safe about it, though. You’ll be okay.” 

“I guess I shouldn’t be so scared about it.” He shrugged. 

“It’s understandable to be scared about it while you’re still this young.” Frank began drinking his refilled water. “You come out on your own time on your own terms. But remember, who you love is not wrong. Your sexuality is nothing short of perfect, Max.” 

“Yeah.” His hands began to shake and he held them tighter against each other. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “Are you guys doing anymore shows soon?” He folded his hands in his lap. 

“I really want to. We try to get booked whenever we can but it's hard, you know? I think our fan base is growing a little bit so we might be here more often. Or other places, just keep your eye out for us.” Frank shrugged. 

“So pumped to see you guys play again. I hope someone bootlegged this show, or I'm gonna lose my mind waiting to hear you guys play those songs again,” Max sighed. “I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, I just wanted to give you something.” The boy dug in his pocket and pulled out a closed fist. Frank held his palm out. The boy dropped a bag into it. 

“What is it?” Frank smiled, leaning closer. “I can’t take this.” His face dropped once he saw what it was.

“It’s free. A gift.” The boy bared his teeth and laughed nervously. He slid off the stool and began walking away. “Can’t wait to see you next show!”

“Max!” Frank called out, but the boy just waved and ran into the crowd. “Fuck me.” He sighed, putting the bag in his pocket as he and Gerard made eye contact. He stood up from the bar and jogged over to him. 

“Insane!” Mikey yelled before they were less than five meters away from each other. “You’re so good! Fuck! Your band rocks!” He put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and shook him a little bit.

“You’re here! You made it!” Frank laughed, throwing his hands up.

“Amazing as always, pumpkin.” He leaned over and kissed Frank’s cheek. “Let’s get out of here, its fucking hot. You’d think this little ass club would have some sort of cooling system. You know, with all the people packed in here and amps and lights.” Gerard sighed uncomfortably. 

“It's _so_ hot in here. Must've sucked to have been on that stage with those lights right on you." He wiped at his face. "Wanna go eat?” Mikey offered, already walking towards the door. The boys followed him out. 

-

Frank squeezed the pills through the plastic bag, sitting alone on the icy bathroom tile. The glowing light above the mirror burned bright in the corner of his eyes. Painful. He hadn’t swallowed any yet. Hadn’t even opened the bag. He pushed the squeaky bathroom door open and let the light spill out. Gerard’s face sat, unbothered, serene. While his chest inflated and fell uninterrupted, a muted snore began to manifest from his nose. He was out for the night. 

Trembling fingers found their way to Frank’s lips. They still felt swollen, nearly numb from hours before. He had submitted to Gerard, wanting him to tease, kiss, and touch until his body fell under into pleasure. His mind broke from the pills lying in the jeans pocket on the floor in exchange to give all his attention to Gerard while under his touch. But once Gerard had fell into sleep, leaving Frank alone with no one but himself until morning, his mind hadn’t wavered from them. 

Originally, he had came to the bathroom to flush the bag down the toilet. Quick, easy, permanent fix. No need to hold onto it and make witless deals with himself on how to ration out the few pills he owned over the week to get rid of them via body. Not again. But once he found himself crouched next to the cool porcelain fixture, it felt impossible to drop the bag into the still water. 

Immediately, he felt overcome with fear of letting go. Flooded with the need to get the pills into his body, get the high, the relief, the thing he’s been after for months with the simplicity of ingesting a few pills from the bag. He sat staring at the closed bag sitting on the seat for what felt like days. Almost opened it once, but thought about how arduous it would be to explain to Gerard. How impossible it would be to deal with the guilt of breaking that trust.

He crept out of the bathroom, picking his jeans up off the floor and slipping his legs into them easily. Looked back once to make sure Gerard was still asleep, then slipped out of the bedroom, across the living room and kitchen, and out the front door. Didn't bother to pick up a pair of shoes or a coat.  He stood at the end of the hall, pacing back and forth in front of the closed doors of the elevator. Where to go? What to do? How to get rid of the drugs in his pocket? He opened his phone and called who he thought could help him.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded groggy, Frank assumed they’d been sleeping. It was becoming incredibly hard to open his dry mouth, the line hung silent for a moment. “Is anyone there? Hello?”

“Can you please help me?” Frank’s voice came out in a choked whisper. “Ray?”

“Frank?” He cleared his throat on the other end. “You okay, man?”

“No,” He felt himself get choked up and he pressed his back into the wall, sliding down it until his bottom hit the floor. “I haven’t done anything yet, but I know I’m gonna.”

“Well if you’ve made it until…” Ray hummed while he stopped talking. “Three in the morning, why not get out of the situation, go to bed, and move on?”

“I don’t think…” Frank removed the phone from his head and held it against his forehead as he began to cry choked sobs. He took a deep breath and brought it back to his ear as Ray called his name from the other side. “No, I don’t think I can.”

“Why’s that?” Ray asked, sounding wide awake now.

“Because I got a bag of pills in my pocket and I’m an addict.” Frank sniffled. 

“Yes, but you have reasons to get the pills away from you. More reasons than you have to take the pills. Being an addict doesn't define or control you.” Ray waited for Frank to say something, but only heard him crying through the phone. “If I promised you I could get you out of this situation and in bed in under twenty minutes, would you take directions from me?”

“Y-yes.” Frank’s body was now almost out of his control, flinching with every inhale as he tried to stop himself from crying. “Tell me what to do.”

“Where are you?” Ray asked.

“Sitting on the floor at the end of the hallway on my floor in my apartment building.” Frank watched his door intently, in fear of it opening and Gerard seeing him in such a mess.

“Is there a bathroom in the lobby?” Ray sounded calm on the other end, which helped Frank to attempt to calm himself down.

“Y-yes.” He sniffled, wiping roughly at his wet eyes. “Do I go there?”

“Yes, go there now. Stay on the line with me, please.” Ray gently commanded. “Tell me when you get in the bathroom to a toilet.”

“Okay.” Frank said, lifting his limp body off the floor and dragging it into the elevator. He pressed the lobby button and waited, the phone still pressed to his head. They remained in the silence together, waiting for each other’s next move. Frank drifted out of the elevator into the family bathroom, locking the door behind him. He exhaled. “I’m in the bathroom.”

“Good, you’re doing amazing. Is there a toilet available for you, Frank?” Ray asked gently, aware of how ugly it could get if Frank wasn’t prepared to go along with his plan. 

“Yes,” Frank let out another bout of sobs, but he continued to talk through them this time. “You’re gonna ask me to flush ‘em, aren’t you?”

“I am, kiddo.” Ray sighed on the other end, almost heartbroken at how much pain was transmitting though Frank’s cries. But he wouldn’t allow his own sorrow to prevent him from getting Frank to get rid of those drugs. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t think so.” Frank said between sobs, gasping for air. “I don’t wanna do it, Ray. I don’t want to flush these. I already tried”

“I know you don’t want to. But are you going to?” Ray tried to ask the right, solid questions to keep Frank from hanging up.

“I’m…” Frank sighed on the other end, desperate to catch his breath. “I have to flush them, I know that. But it’s hard.”

“I know. But it’ll be harder to get back on the drugs again. You don’t want to deal with all that bullshit, I know you don't.” Ray tried to bring his spirits up. “Come on, Frank. Just flush the fuckers down.” Ray listened to silence on the other side for a few seconds too long, beginning to worry. Once he was about to speak up and say something, he heard the toilet flush.

“I did it. They’re all gone.” Frank spoke low into the phone, feeling himself become incredibly more and more exhausted by the moment. “I flushed them all. The entire bag, I didn't even open it. I just threw it into the water and flushed it.”

“Fantastic, I’m so proud of you, Frank. You should be proud of yourself too, kiddo. That was really brave and strong of you.” Ray felt a weight being lifted.

“Thank you, Ray. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Frank smiled though no one could see him. He yawned and exited the restroom, his hand already out, ready to press the elevator button. “I feel really tired now, I’m heading up to bed. Goodnight, thank you for talking to me.”

“That’s what sponsors are for. Night, kiddo.” Ray let Frank hang up, just in case he had anything else to say. The line fell dead and he listened to the dial tone for a moment before hanging up himself.

Frank leaned against the elevator wall, his head falling backwards and his eyes fluttering shut. A spill of warmness flooded his body, the satisfaction of overcoming the drugs. He began to laugh, thinking of how easy it was to get rid of them. How angry he had been at Max earlier, but now he realized Max had done him a favor. The drugs couldn't control him, he knew that for sure now. He smiled to himself, taking a deep breath in before going back down the hall and to his front door. He opened it, everything still and waiting to be woken up. It didn’t feel right to be up and roaming around their living space at this time in the dark. 

He slid his jeans off again, letting them fall silently onto the floor and he melted onto the mattress, bringing up covers up to his chin. He pressed his nose against Gerard’s back, inhaling his scent, engraving it deep into his memory to be not forgotten. The disruption of the bed was enough to awake Gerard a little bit and he rolled over with a tired moan, his eyes still shut, but he recognized Frank was cold, hadn't been in bed. One of his hands rested on Frank’s cheek, his thumb under his eye and his pinky reaching his jaw. Frank wrapped his own hand around it and pressed the warm fingers into his skin farther. Gerard's skin was warm.

"Did you leave?" Gerard asked, his eyes still closed. 

"Yes." Frank responded, running his hands through the beginning of Gerard's hairline. "I just got back."

"Where'd you go?" He mumbled.

"The lobby." He whispered.

"Why'd you go there?" He asked, his voice higher and softer than it usually was.

"After the show, some kid gave me a bag of pills and I-" 

"No, no. No, Frank." Gerard inhaled sharply and opened his eyes, looking right into Frank's eyes. They looked sober, not glossy and foggy like they normally did when he was on drugs. He touched his cheek, it wasn't flushed or warm. "You didn't take them. I can tell."

"No," Frank laughed, his eyes watering. "None of them."

"So, where are they? Let's get rid of them now before they cause any trouble." Gerard closed his eyes again, exhausted. But he disregarded that and tossed the blanket off of his body. "Come on, pumpkin. I'll help you." He sat up in the bed.

"No, Gerard, I already got rid of them. That's why I was in the lobby." Frank gripped his forearm.

"You..." Gerard looked him in the eye, turning his body over so he was facing him while sitting on his legs. "You threw them away?" He smiled wide, his eyes watering and stinging.

"I flushed them. The whole bag. I didn't even take one pill." He promised.

"I'm so proud of you, you've come so far." He fell into Frank, wrapping his arms around him. Frank accepted his warm body against his colder one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for taking the time to read, you're so lovely.


	21. Twenty One

Frank watched the streets pass him by, his face close to the glass, mesmerized by how neat the trees leading up to the college were. Trimmed and shaped to perfection, but no shape becoming uniform among them. Each had their own curves and twists. The leaves swayed softly as the wind blew them around. They clung to each other, trying hard to stay together on the branch, wanting nothing more than to stay on rather than fall. 

He breathed out heavily upon seeing the college, tall buildings close together, the students scurrying around. Books in hand. Some were reading as they walked. Frank began to wonder about how nice it would be to have the only stress in his life to be studying for final exams. He’d have no time or room in his mind to even think about getting high. Gerard parked the car in a free spot and Frank didn't waste a moment getting out of the car.

“It’s gorgeous around here!” Frank jogged to Gerard’s side and they began walking together, the shoulders of their coats touched.

“You think so?” Gerard intertwined his fingers in Frank’s. He felt his stomach flutter.

“Mhm,” He raised his head and sighed again, the tall buildings and busybodies left him in complete awe. “Maybe I’ll enroll.” He stared at the windows at the top of the tall buildings, trying to see anyone inside. 

“Ooh, what would you major in?” Gerard squeezed his hand.

“Take a guess.” He challenged him.

“Hmm,” Gerard glanced at the building titles around him, seeing where Frank would fit. “Engineering?”

“Nope.” He noticed a shadow movement in a building up high, imagined having a class on the tenth floor of a building. “Not any good at math.” 

“Music?” He guessed.

“Maybe minor in music. But no, not major.” He shook his head.

“Political Science? I don’t know.” Gerard laughed, giving up.

“Astrophysics.” Frank raised his head, walking with pride.

“You’d become an astrophysicist?” He looked to Frank and saw him nodding. “Yeah, I can totally see that.”

“You could?” Frank’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve been told I don’t look like the smart type.”

“You don’t have to  _ look  _ smart if you  _ are  _ smart, pumpkin.” He leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Anyways, what is smart even  _ supposed  _ to look like?”

“I guess you’re right. Is your workroom in there?” Frank pointed to a building with a sign that said ‘ _Art_ ’ and a figure of a paintbrush above the tall doors. 

“Yes, it is.” Gerard sped up his pace a bit and they entered. A few students were inside, sat at long tables. Silently working their art pieces. Some held paintbrushes, some held pencils, glue, molded clay, twisted ribbon, or thread.

"Wait, am I allowed to look around?" Frank asked, craning his neck and looking around wide-eyed.

"Yeah, just don't touch." Gerard began to look at the pieces himself, realizing he hadn't taken time to look at his classmate's art. 

Frank began to wander the room from the end corner in the back of the room. He walked along the wall, looking at the pieces sat in the drying racks. Since the pieces were inserted into shelves that were stacked, it made the art hard to see. Frank looked closely, avoiding pushing his nose into it. He didn't want to touch the art, put it was almost impossible to see. He sighed and continued around the room, looking at the art hung up on the walls. They were sectioned out by materials used. Charcoal, graphite, colored pencils, watercolor, acrylic, oil, and mixed media. He began to reach out to touch a charcoal art piece of a tiger, but caught himself in time. The fur drawn looked soft enough to touch. He stared at it, taking in all the details to remember for later. 

A section over was made up of 3D pieces stacked on shelves in various cases. After a moment, he came to the conclusion that these too were made up of different materials. Looked to be glass, clay, wire, metal, and something else he couldn't pin point. Maybe mixed media. In the clay section there sat a piece he couldn't help but keep his eyes on. There were tall, lean people carrying their hearts. They were very large and built out of proportion, but it added weight. The artist had even bothered to add blood dripping from the arteries on top. Another he couldn't take his eyes off was the glass sculpture of a dog. His ears perched up in attention, tongue sticking out a bit, his eyes looking friendly. Painted a warm brown. He bent down to look at the tag on his red collar.  _Buddy._

He continued to the tables where the students sat. He was afraid of disturbing them or making them uncomfortable, but he noticed that none of them even noticed he was there. Or they did notice but just didn't care. He continued to look at the art they were making, bothered by him. He saw a few people painting, hunched over close to their pieces. Some canvases sat on small table-top easels, but some didn't, stayed laid on the table. But he noticed someone had a glue gun and multiple colors of ribbon, cutting the ribbon into small pieces and hot gluing them onto a canvas. It looked to be taking on the shape of a fair scene. It looked like a painting and he breathed out a ' _whoa'_ without meaning to. The artist looked back at him and waved while she smiled. He smiled back and gave her a thumbs up. 

Looking around more, he noticed there were tons of different mediums. Someone was painting a dry clay sculpture of a bouquet of flowers that looked realistic. He watched them until they looked up and made eye contact with him. He smiled at them and they smiled back, looking down at their piece and continuing to paint. The person next to them was chewing on their nails, staring at their painting. Frank noticed the look on their face. Gerard would get the same look on his face when he was painting and noticed something was missing, but couldn't figure out  _what_ exactly was missing from it. 

“Oh,” Frank sighed, again amazed. “They’re all doing something different.” As Gerard caught up with him and landed by his side. Frank pointed to a person with thread, getting a bit embarrassed once he realized how rude that must've looked. “They’re sewing their picture on, look.”

“Embroidering, darling.” The person held their art piece up to showcase it to Frank, smiling. 

"It's really nice." Frank nodded as Gerard signaled to him that they had to leave the room. "I just want to say," He spoke up and most of the artists looked up at him. "I don't make  visual art, but this all looks really nice. Amazing." Some of the artists laughed and thanked him. Most laughed and went back to their work, wearing small smiles. Gerard laughed and pulled his arm in the direction they needed to go. 

“I work in a separate room.” Gerard let him know why they had left.

“Why?” Frank followed him through a small hallway until they reached a gray door. 

“My canvas is too big. My professor thought that I deserved my own workroom.” He held the door open for Frank to go in first. His eyes fell on the professor sitting on the floor in front of the canvas, which was covered with a huge white cloth. “Morning, Hopkins.” 

“Oh, good morning, Gerard. Excuse me, I’ve just been sketching the room in here, your piece stood so magnificent in here I couldn’t bear not to. You’ve brought a friend?” He gestured to Frank, not looking up from his sketchbook, only noticing an extra pair of shoes.

“Sure have, wanted to show him my art piece.” Gerard smiled at Frank, his lips closed. Frank began to feel a shift in the energy in the room.

“You-” Hopkins stood up quickly once he saw Frank’s face. “Oh, yes. It’s truly you, oh goodness. Uncanny, I know you!”

“You do?” Frank took a small step back. 

“Yes- well, no.” He waved his hand in a gesture to be followed as he began to walk to the canvas. “I know  _ of  _ you, I don’t _know_ you _. _ ” 

“Easy, Hopkins.” Gerard laughed uneasily. 

“Of course. You know me,” He laughed, running a hand through his graying hair. “Once I get my mind on something I can’t stop thinking about it. Talking about it. I just keep going. I c-”

“Wanna help me get the cloth off?” Gerard cut him off, knowing he’d keep going.

“Yes, I do.” He stood on one side of the canvas and Gerard places himself on the other side. “God, this canvas is huge.” Frank stood back, wanting to see the whole, ginormous piece once revealed. 

“Close your eyes.” Gerard told him. Frank obeyed, pressing his fingers over his eyelids. He heard the noise of Hopkins and Gerard grunting and the cloth falling. A warmth rose in his stomach as anticipation grew. “Go ahead, look now.” Gerard spoke softly.

“Oh…” Frank exhaled heavily. He felt his knees get weak and his eyes begin to burn from being open so wide.

Before him stood an eighteen foot tall, twenty two foot long painting of  _ him _ . 

It was him with his eyes almost shut, lying in the bath in their apartment bathroom with half his face underwater. His cupids bow was the last part of his face that was above water. The picture only succeeded down to the middle of his stomach, just above his belly button. Leaving his groin area and legs out, which he was thankful for. The painting was done in a photo realistic style. It looked _exactly_ like him, he could even see a few tiny pores painted. The water looked like  _ actual  _ water. The way the bottom of Frank's face was distorted only into color under the water was breathtaking by how accurately it was done. If he hadn't known how long Gerard had spent painting this, he would have thought it was just a picture blown up to a huge size. 

His eyelashes looked soft and delicate, clumped together by the bathwater as they laid above his cheek. The short hair at the beginning of his hairline was mostly pushed back on the top of his head. But a few strands and clumps of his dark hair were glued to his face. Shiny by the wetness of the water. A single drip had begun to fall from his hair down the length of his nose. Frozen in time. The shapes and contours of his face were done perfectly, looking proportional to his face. The color of everything was done perfectly. The white of the porcelain bathtub was the perfect shade of beginning to yellow. The silver water handle above and behind his head was a perfect shine, he squinted at it, wondering how he managed to do that with paint. His skin color was perfect. The color and shine of his eyes was perfect. The individual veins in the sides of his strained eyes were done perfectly. Even the glaze over them made it obvious he had been crying even though only a bit of the actual eye was visible. The darkening on his eyelid and under his eyes, the soft white of scattered clusters of soap bubbles floating, the pink feverish blushing on the top of his cheeks and on his nose was done perfectly. He recognized the feeling of when he had looked like this. 

It was when he had been on detoxification from heroin. That particular day of the long process, he had felt sick, achy, nauseous, dizzy, and hot all over, unable to cool himself down. So he cried and cried until his eyes were puffy and a dark shade of pink instead of white. Gerard had ran him a bath and carried him to it, his legs being too weak to hold his body on them. He laid in the water until his skin felt cool. Fighting the want to fall asleep the whole time he was in the water, the only time he felt some sort of momentary slight relief from the pain in his body. He couldn't remember how long he was in there, but he knew Gerard was there with him, sketchbook in hand, watching to make sure he didn't fall asleep under water. 

“Do you like it?” Gerard shifted his feet nervously, biting at his lip. 

“I…” Frank sank down onto the floor, his legs no longer being able to support him and hold him up. “It’s… Gerard.” His voice shook and he laughed, his eyes watering. He felt a flood of emotion invade his body. “You really did this.”

“I did.” He walked over to Frank and crouched next to him, rubbing his back. He looked at his piece and admired all the long, hard work he’d put into it. “It isn't completely finished, I st-”

“What?” Frank laughed, sounding like a sob. “How could it get any better?”

“He is very talented, this one.” Hopkins told Frank as he began to walk to the door. “I still cant believe how uncanny the resemblance is. I’ve been waiting to see you for months, Frank. You are as beautiful as you were made in paint.” He exited the room.

“Oh, God.” Frank began to sob. “I don’t even know why I’m crying so hard. I’m so…” He looked back up at the painting, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I don’t even have the words. I’m so much more than amazed. I’m in complete awe, Gee.”

“You really mean that?” Gerard rubbed at his back, watching his eyes study the paint shapes.

“Yes, I mean it. Don’t you see what an amazing artist you are? God, you’re so talented.” He leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss to Gerard’s mouth.

“I’m glad you like it.” He slid down onto the floor and sat next to Frank, making a mental list of things he still needed to do to the painting before it was finished. 

“I love it.” He leaned forward, his eyes catching more details every time. He pulled the neckline of his shirt down, looking at his chest under his collarbone after seeing a freckle painted there. He couldn't recall having it. Sure enough, it was there in his skin. “Oh.”

“What?” Gerard looked at him looking at his body.

“I didn’t know I had a freckle there on my chest.” He pointed to it, even though he figured Gerard already knew it was there. 

“You just learned it from the painting?” Gerard resisted the urge to smile.

“Mhm,” He let go of his shirt and rested his chin in his hands, his elbows pressed into his knees, staring at himself in front of him. “Something new everyday.”

-

In the car on the way home, Frank had began to point out places he thought would be nice to take Gerard on a date. Gerard began to drive slower, ten miles under the speed limit just to get the extra time with Frank. He pointed at a theater that had been left alone and empty for too long. Brown stains had begun to drip from the roof down the sides. Frank told him it looked like a nice place inside if it was still tended to. He wondered what movies were played before they left it alone. 

Gerard drove past a busy restaurant. People sitting on benches on the outside under a patio. Waiting for an empty table, dressed in the nicest outfit they could find that still fit. He decided it would be nice to go there when they were old men. When they had nothing better to do than get dressed up real fancy to sit outside and wait for a table to empty. Maybe if they had made a reservation now they could get a nice table in a few decades. 

Frank pointed at a park, past the equipment and into the field behind it. Alone, quiet, still. He sighed at the sight of it. The slight wind that was blowing moved the dandelions and long grass subtly, as if a ghost were pushing it with its delicate fingers. The wind had been blowing all day, soft at times, harder at others. 

“There? The park?” Gerard pointed to the swing set.

“No. No, the hill.” Frank pointed past his face and Gerard slowed down even more, the street empty. 

“That looks so nice.” Gerard began to chew on his lip.

“Looks calm.” Frank smiled at the thought of living on the hill. “Let’s go.”

“When?” Gerard continued to look at a tree that was growing on the hill.

“Now, right now. Turn in.” Frank considered turning the steering wheel himself so he didn’t miss the turn. Gerard said nothing, but smiled, keeping his teeth hidden as he turned into the park’s lot. 

“It’s cold, we should come back in the warm spring.” Gerard began to notice the cold temperature creeping its way through the car window.

“ _No_ ," He complained. "We have jackets. Put yours on.” Frank nudged him, pushing his jacket into his lap.

Gerard pulled his jacket over his shoulders, zipping it up and letting some body heat collect inside before he stepped out. Though it wasn't as cold as it could be, he still didn’t want to be uncomfortable. Frank, on the other hand, jumped out of the car before he had both sleeves on his arms. He ran to the driver’s side window and stood there, waiting for Gerard to warm himself up enough. He knew they had all the time in the world, but he couldn’t help but feel rushed to get to where he wanted to be.

Finally, Gerard shut the car off and stepped out. Frank grabbed his hand and began with long strides through the rocks and grass, watching the hill grow closer. Gerard allowed himself to be dragged, pulling his hood atop his head, watching the park pass by. He looked ahead of him, for the hill, and saw it was much closer than he expected. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over him, taking him under. 

Frank ran up the side of the hill, still pulling Gerard along as he laughed. Once he reached the top, Frank sighed and looked around. Then he laid down, letting the grass touch and tickle his face. Gerard laid down next to him, the grass slouched over his thick hood and touched his cheeks. Though it began to itch, he didn’t feel the need to brush it off. Instead he closed his eyes and found franks hand to hold. He sighed into the comfort of the hill. It wasn't as cold as Gerard had thought, the sun actually was warming him. He relaxed against the material of his jacket and let himself slip into the dark, unsure if he was falling asleep so soon, but didn't mind. 

Frank watched the clouds pass, trying to put tangible images to the organic shapes of the clouds in the sky. He saw one that looked like a lion, lying next to a rock. One that looked like a Ferris wheel, a baby, a dragon. He chuckled to himself, finding a few of the shapes amazing. His mind stayed on the baby cloud. He began to think about babies, kids, family, of his own. Chewed on the inside of his cheek and tried to decide if he actually wanted to raise a baby, try to adopt one. He didn't think he'd want to raise one with anybody other than Gerard. He wondered if he had thought about kids. Raising them with Frank.

In the silence he could hear nothing but Gerard’s breathing. Consistent, quiet. He wondered if he was asleep. Frank looked over, his eyes scanned his face. his eyes were shut and his lips still, stuck in an upturn of the mouth, but relaxed. He could almost tell, decided he probably was, since he hadn’t said anything in so long. He had started to think about things to write once he got home, begging his brain to remember his thoughts so he could put them down on the paper. He made another mental note to bring up babies in a while if he still wanted to raise a kid. He saw a cloud that looked like a book, which made him think of a bible, then of a priest who'd marry them. He sighed and looked over at his face again, definitely asleep.  

Frank pushed his thumb into the slight dip in Gerard’s arm where his wrist met his hand, searching for his pulse. It felt weak, far away. He moved his thumb a bit, sliding it here and there until he felt it stronger and left his thumb there, feeling the beats of his heart. He used his other hand to feel his own pulse. Looking to see if they came close to matching up. And they were, Frank's pulse was faster, as soon as another beat of his heart had begun, a beat of Gerard’s heart ended. He wondered what his heart sounded like inside his body. 

Frank turned his head back into the position it was in before and laid still, re intertwining their fingers and looking at the clouds again. He watched a few pass, thinking of objects that matched the silhouette shape of each cloud in the sky. A pair of shoes, a tree, something that looked vaguely like a couch. He laughed loudly to his own thoughts, thinking of an actual couch that could look that deformed. The sound rung through the silent air. Gerard breathed deeply, signaling he was waking up soon. He looked to his face for a second, then back to the sky. He had seen a cloud that looked like a heart.

He was waiting for Gerard to wake up, but he hadn’t yet. He looked over to his face and stared at it, waiting for his eyelashes to flutter and separate, come back together a few times while his eyes tried to focus. But they hadn’t yet. He didn’t mind, he had the clouds and the wind to keep him company. Gerard had looked tired all day, he figured he deserved a nice nap for a while. He wondered if he had gone to bed at an early enough time. He had stayed awake until at least a little past eleven, when Frank fell asleep, water coloring eyes into a sketchbook and adding highlights in different places to see how that altered the shape. Of course, when Frank had got up in the morning, many sketch papers were scattered about the bedroom floor. Much more than he had seen Gerard paint. 

Vibrating began in his pocket and it confused him at first. Not remembering what a cell phone was. He pulled it from his pocket, opened it, and pushed it to his ear without looking at the caller ID. He greeted the person on the other side, looking down at his feet, the toes of his shoes pointing to the sky. 

“Frank, how you been?” The voice on the other side sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He closed his eyes, trying to remember. When he did, his mouth ran dry.

“Good, good. How’ve you been, Powder?” Frank swallowed hard, already thinking about his association with him.

“Fine, I got some good news for you.” He chuckled on the other side. It sounded sinister. 

“What’s that?” He kept his voice still, faking nonchalance. 

“I’ve got  _ a lot  _ of good H.” He could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Got a new shipment, tons of clean cut, good stuff.” 

“Alright.” Frank nodded once, even though he couldn’t see him. 

“Cool, see you soon?” Powder asked.

“Actually,” Frank sighed. “No, I’m not interested. Thanks for thinking of me, I guess. But, I don’t do heroin anymore, I’m clean, man.” 

“What do you mean you’re  _ clean _ ?” He almost sounded revolted. 

“I’m sober, man.” Frank chuckled uneasily. “I don’t do drugs anymore.” The line hung silent for a moment, Frank waiting for Powder to say something. But he hadn’t spoken, and it had began to get awkward. “Uh, thanks anyway. Bye, Powder.”

“For now, Frank. Once a heroin addict, always a heroin addict.” Powder laughed, scoffing. 

“Fuck  _ you _ .” Frank knew he needed to collect himself, but he felt an overwhelming need to let him know he was serious. “You don’t know me. Just ‘cause you can’t get clean doesn’t mean no one else can. Go fuck yourself, some of us have shit to do other than get high.” Frank pulled the phone away from his ear and shut it before Powder had a chance to say anything. 

Gerard sighed in his sleep next to him and he watched his eyes dart around under his eyelids. The wind had picked up more, blowing the hair that laid on his forehead to the side, his bright skin sat scattered with miscellaneous strands of hair. Frank loosened his hand from Gerard's and brushed the hair back, clearing his face of the black lines. He ran the back of his fingers against the skin of his cheek. A content sigh escaped him as he felt comfort surround his whole body. His eyes shifted back to the sky, giving all the clouds names that were traveling across the sky instead of looking for a certain shape to fit them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeez you're all so sweet about my writing. i cant thank you guys enough for reading my story<3333


	22. Twenty Two

Frank tossed over in bed, looking over at the clock. He had to get up for work in less than four hours. Of course, he wanted to rest. But since Powder had called him and let him know heroin was so close in his reach, he was unable to focus on much. He had become snappy at work, blamed it on a lack of sleep. Lost his appetite, not hungry for food or much of anything. But when Gerard was around, he did his best to hide his discomfort. When he had pointed out his strange attitude and asked him what was wrong, he had blamed it on the pressure he felt to write more songs before the band landed a new gig. He felt so awful about lying, the guilt only adding to the reasons he couldn't sleep anymore. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind of any thoughts. He was unsuccessful.

He sighed out of frustration and laid on his bed still, his wide awake eyes staring at the ceiling. Gerard laid heavy and motionless next to him, the only indication of him being alive was his occasional snores. He pulled the blanket off his clammy body and sat up slowly, his head beginning to ache. He swung his feet over the edge and settled his bare toes onto the cold floor, stood up, gained his balance, and began to walk to the kitchen in a dreamlike haze. 

He filled a glass with water and drank it fast, clearing it out in a few gulps. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until now. He filled it again, drinking it a bit slower this time, but still downing it in fast gulps. He sighed as he removed the glass from his mouth. Then filled it again. He held the lip to his mouth, sipping occasionally. His eyes shut and the breathed deeply, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach like he was at the top of a roller coaster began to slowly be repressed. 

He watched Fungus rub herself against the bottom of his legs, leaving wispy strands of fur on his pajama pants. She needed to be brushed. He sighed and began digging in the junk drawers. He had remembered buying a brush once a few months ago, but he hadn’t since used it. More guilt piled on. The poor cat hadn’t been brushed in so long, no wonder she was always rubbing herself against things. She probably felt heavy. 

“Come on, kitty.” Frank found the cat brush and began towards the window to the fire escape.

He knew the early morning air would be frosty, but he wouldn’t mind. It hit his face as soon as he cracked the window open and he gasped slightly, but continued climbing out onto the metal floor. He lowered himself so he was sitting with his legs underneath him, absorbing the cold from the floor. Fungus slowly climbed out, squinting her one eye at the cold. Frank pulled the window shut behind them.

She sat in front of him, her back to him, awaiting the brushing to begin. He slowly ran the brush down the entire length of her body. Neck to the base of her tail. She made a cooing noise, but stayed still. As he continued, she began to purr. Tufts of fur fell from her body and began blowing away in the air. The wind had been heavy for a couple of days. Both Fungus and Frank enjoyed the wind.   As the hair coming off of the brush began to thin, Fungus laid down on his back. Frank sighed and pulled his legs out from under him. He began to brush her soft belly, not much fur coming from the underside. After a short while, the hair coming from her belly was so insignificant he decided they were done. He moved so his back was pressed against the window and he looked at the sky above the alley. 

The moon and stars looked the same as they had months ago before Frank had experienced all of this. Before he had left home, when he stared out his window while lying in his bed. He’d watch the moon move across the sky the whole night the times when he was unable to sleep. Shifting upside down in his bed so he could see the moon come from the left side of the window, reach the middle, the right side, then disappear. He had recalled the way the moonlight felt different on his face there. 

He didn’t miss home. He thought he had at first when he left. Wanted nothing more than to be able to walk through the door and get a decent nights sleep in his bed, in his room after so long. Be able to shower and change into his own clean clothes. But he realized later was it wasn’t the material objects. He missed coming home to his mom asking him how his day was, his father telling him goodnight, the way his mom folded his shirts perfectly even though he'd have to unfold them to hang them. He had once asked her why. She shrugged and told him. "I just like doing it."

He didn’t long for that so much anymore. Now he had Gerard to come home to. Fungus too. A loving boyfriend and an adoring alley cat. Right now he wanted Gerard to come sit with him and hold his hand, lay his head on his shoulder. He shivered at the thought of the air exiting Gerard’s nostrils pushing into his neck. He began to chuckle lightly to himself. Deciding, he didn’t miss much of anything anymore, he was happy with how he was living right now. 

“You miss living out there alone?” Frank asked Fungus. Her eyes flicked to him, then back to the street. She meowed once, then shut her eyes again. “Me neither. You know, Fungus,” He began. “I don’t want to make any same mistakes I’ve made before, the past is back there and it sucks. Right now is where I want to be.”

He watched the stars for a moment more, let the cold wind freeze his ears and nose. Then he opened the window and climbed back inside into the dark living room. Fungus followed, taking her place curled up on the couch to sleep. He stretched his body in front of the kitchen sink, his back popped in a few places. He filled up the glass of water again and drank it slowly, the anxious feeling in his stomach almost completely gone. 

Careful to not wake him, Frank slid into the bed next to Gerard again. He laid with his nose pointing to the ceiling, it was unlike him. Frank nuzzled his head into Gerard’s bare side, pressing his cheek to his ribs. He could hear his heartbeat from here. He shut his eyes and felt sleep take him into its heavy arms. 

-

Frank slammed down his shoes once he had taken them off. He peeled his jacket off and dropped it on the floor. Didn’t care to exert the energy to hand it on the rack. Today was already miserable and exhausting. At the opportunity of heroin, his body had decided it wanted it despite his mind’s protests. He felt irritated, knew he was being irrational, but he didn’t care. Wanted to be mad. Needed someone to be mad at. He saw Gerard sitting on the couch, sketchbook in hand. His brow furrowed as he was slowly and carefully erasing. 

He thought to himself to stop now, forget about it and tell Gerard what was going on. Don’t try to start a fight. He didn't want to fight with Gerard. But at the same time, he wanted to break the glass on the window he was sitting in front of. He hadn’t felt this way until he climbed through that window and got sober. He told himself to stop, quit being so awful, stop thinking such awful thoughts. But they came without warning, without care for what Frank wanted. 

“Hey, how was your day?” Gerard began to set his pencil and book down on the coffee table, preparing to get up to hug him. 

“Fine.” Frank ground his teeth, walking into the kitchen to look for a snack. He wanted those dried mixed fruit chips he liked. Searched the cabinet where they usually were.   

“Well, what happened today? Anything exciting?” Gerard stood from the couch, but didn’t take a step toward him. 

“S'not important.” There weren’t any fruit chips. Of fucking course they didn’t have any fruit chips. He wasn’t hungry anyway, his stomach was churning. He sighed and settled for nothing.

“What?” Gerard craned his neck to see Frank through the opening into the kitchen above the counter where he could see from the couch.

“You don't _care_.” Frank leaned against the corner of the stole, staring back at him through the opening. He wanted to stop, but the want that decided to argue overcame him and decided he had too much to say.

“I do care. A lot, actually about how your day went today.” Gerard pointed a finger at him. “Could you ju-”

“I’m not a child.” Frank crossed his arms. He wished Gerard would stop talking to him so he wouldn't have the opportunity to start a fight with him. 

“I know that. I know you’re not a child.” Gerard lowered his finger. 

“So why do you try so hard to treat me like one?” Frank flared his nostrils, waiting for Gerard to say the wrong thing so he could go off.

“How is me asking how your day was me treating you like a child?” Gerard scoffed. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with Frank. He never wanted to fight with him. “Why are you so upset?”

“Fuck you,” Frank laughed a little too hard.

“You…” Gerard trailed off, speechless. Frank looked like he hated him. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to react.  “What the fuck is your problem?!” He spat, stomping into the kitchen. 

“You don't need to talk to me like that.” Frank said, impassive. “It’s not my fault you treat me like I can’t take care of my fucking self.”

“No, don’t minimize it and switch it to me acting like a dick.” Gerard began to raise his voice. “ _ You _ came home and started being a fucking asshole for no reason, I have the right to be upset.”

“Oh!” Frank yelled, laughing sarcastically. “Well, my heart breaks for you. Your boyfriend coming home in a bad mood threw your act off!” He avoided eye contact, afraid it would bring him back down to earth. 

“My  _ act _ ?!” Gerard yelled in his face. He tried to look into his eyes, but noticed Frank was looking past him. 

“Yeah, your fucking act.” He snarled, getting close to his face. He still stared at his forehead, not daring to look at his irises. “I don’t know what you get out of treating me like I can’t care for myself.” He tried to step past him but Gerard stuck his leg out.

“What I  _ get  _ out of it? Treating you like a child?” He kept his leg out. He didn’t know if he was stronger than Frank, but he was taller and bigger. He hoped that gave the illusion that he could stop him. “I don’t think you’re a child or that you can’t take care of yourself! It’s that you get in these moods and instead of dealing with your shit, you take it out on me! I’ve got nothing to do with it!” He screamed, aware that their neighbors could hear through thin walls, but he didn’t care.

“It is  _ all  _ your fault.” He growled. “I'm in pain. I get sick, irritated, awful headaches. All because I came here and you got me sober.” He made the mistake of looking into his eyes. He expected to feel bad, but he saw anger seething from them. It fueled his own. “You did this to me!”

“You asked me to help you get there!” Gerard screamed as loud as he could, his body began to shake. “And I took over a week off from everything, put my life on fucking  _ hold  _ to help  _ you  _ get off heroin!” He was so angry he was past the point of crying, he wanted to scream what he thought into Frank’s face. So that’s what he was going to do. “I wasn’t there when you _started_ doing it, wasn’t there when you got _addicted_!”

“So why?!” Frank bounced once, outstretching all his fingers and throwing his hands into Gerard’s face, nearly hitting him. He hadn't meant to almost hit him and a spark of revenge hit him in his chest and brought his humanity back for a second. When Gerard's angry eyes met his again, it buried that feeling. “Why the fuck would you even bother, what the hell was the point?!” He screamed, a bit of spit collected on his bottom lip.

“Because I fucking care about you, Frank! I wanted you to get sober because that's what you wanted for yourself! Of fucking course I wanted you to get sober, but I didn't have to even ask you, you asked me to hep you. And I did because I fucking love you!” He wiped a hand over his face. He saw a flash of something he couldn't pinpoint in Frank's eyes. It looked like the curtain fell and he averted his eyes again and turned around. 

“Okay.” Frank said, shrugging. He leaned down and looked in the fridge. He pulled out a can of beer and stepped around Gerard. He let him. “Sure.”

“Fuck you, you’ve been acting weird all week.” Gerard wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the apartment become suddenly cold. 

“Fuck me?” Frank asked, sitting down on the couch. He opened the can and sipped the foam off the top that began spilling out.  

“Yes. Fuck you!” Gerard started to scream again, anger filling his body once more.

“Fuck me!” Frank laughed, his voice raised. “Fuck you!” He yelled after swallowing two mouthfuls of foamy, bitter beer. He hadn’t given it the chance to have the foam disappear a bit.

“Asshole.” Gerard scoffed, staring at Frank as he nursed the can, wondering what to do next. "What happened?"

“I don’t know.” Frank shrugged softly, lifting the can to his lips again.

“What happened?” Gerard took a heavy step forward.

“Nothing!” Frank began to feel himself get choked up. He wanted to hit himself in the head to knock out the want to cry and the need to fight. “Nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing! Get off my fucking back!” Frank yelled, springing up from the couch. “Fuck off!”

“Oh, my fucking god.” Gerard threw his hands up in frustration and defeat. He snatched his keys from the counter. “I’m going out and I’m gonna buy some food for us for dinner. When I come back I wanna talk to you. So gather whatever shit you’re stacking up and fucking sort it.” Gerard ripped his shoes from the floor and his coat from the rack. He didn’t put them on before he left. Once he was in the elevator he realized he didn’t have socks on. 

Frank sat alone on the couch, marinating in the atmosphere he had created by starting a fight. It was uncomfortable, too hot. He stood up off the couch, in search of another beer. Once he had found one in the back of the fridge he opened it with the door still open. Drank the whole can in a few big gulps. One lone can left sat there, mocking him. He didn’t want it, knew it would get him slightly past the point of being buzzed, but he opened it anyway and began to drink it slowly.

The weight of how angry Gerard had looked at him sat uncomfortable on his shoulders. He began to feel extremely embarrassed, but also angry. He didn’t say how long he’d be gone, would he come back tonight after how awful Frank had been to him? An uneasiness grew inside of him from the silence of isolation he felt in the apartment, Fungus wasn’t even here.   He sat on the couch again, both hands holding the beer can. Both his knees were bouncing and he felt like he needed to get something. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Powder.

“Hey.” The voice on the other end sounded awful.

“How soon can you get to the apartment buildings on the address I just texted you?” Frank asked, not bothering with the small talk.

“Uh…” The voice grew distant as he pulled the phone from his face to read the text and figure out where that was. “Thirty minutes tops.”

“Drive fast. Bring some H, I’ll give you extra for the trip.” Frank clicked the phone call dead. He felt a sense of calm hit him, but it was immediately washed away by ocean of shame. He thought about calling Powder and telling him never mind, he'd changed his decision. 

Before he could, he grabbed the couch pillow in two tight fists and shoved his face into it. He started to scream, all the air in his lungs being huffed out in high volume. His throat was feeling scratchy already, but he didn’t want to stop. It felt like a release of pressure that had been building up for so, so long. He screamed until his eyes began to water and he began to sob into the pillow. Even though he wanted to now, his body wasn’t ready to stop, he still needed to keep letting it go. His voice started to cut out and come out in squeaks as he screamed, so he set the pillow back down, wiped his eyes, and started looking for cigarettes. 

With a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in hand, he stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes and pulled on one of Gerard’s jackets. The inside was lined with soft fur. He zipped it up and left, turning the lights off before he did. He hadn’t wiped the tears off his face, but he didn’t care to. He felt the streaks drying on his face and he wondered if they would leave marks. He stood in the elevator and gingerly touched his damp cheeks. 

He sat on the curb, his body clinging to the jacket. He lit a cigarette in his mouth and inhaled the smoke slowly, letting it fill his lungs. He exhaled some smoke, sniffed Gerard’s jacket, filling the empty space in his lungs with his scent, then exhaled everything. He smoked the whole cigarette, staring at the roads, waiting to see Gerard’s car. He was waiting to see Powder’s too, but it wasn’t as urgent. It was more a feeling of apprehension. He lit another cigarette, pressing the butt of the previous one into the concrete. 

He saw the red chevy impala that Powder drove park across the street. He told himself to stand, but his legs felt paralyzed. He kept smoking his cigarette, more desperately now, as he watched him slowly climb out. Powder crossed the street, one long slender leg in from of the other, his hands in his jean pockets. He stood up and waited for him to reach him on the sidewalk.

“Hey, Frank.” Powder nodded his head once. “Got the money?”

“Uh huh.” He said, his mouth feeling numb.

Powder reached his hand out and Frank grabbed it. He felt the familiar feeling of the bag with the heroin in it touch his palm. He gasped slightly at the knowledge of what it was, in his hand, just like that. 

“This is a nice neighborhood.” Powder looked around at the collection of people passing through the streets. 

“Nicer than most.” Frank agreed. 

“So what you been up to?” Powder asked.

“Not much, just hanging around. Doing whatever.” Frank said, wishing they could say goodbye and part their ways already. “You?”

“Pretty much the same. Making lots of cash, you know? That shipment was clean as hell.” He laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Frank smirked. “Right on.”

“I’ma get something to eat, you good?” Powder asked, signaling he wanted to leave just as much as Frank. 

“I’m gonna eat soon, I’m alright.” He held out his hand, holding thirty five dollars discreetly. Powder took it and pulled him into a single armed hug, taking the money. 

“Cool, you enjoy. See you later.” Powder waved, crossing the street again and unlocked his car.

Frank sat back on the curb, putting his cigarette back in his mouth. It had only burned down a bit since he was talking to Powder. He inhaled deeply, flicking off the ash while he exhaled. He sucked three more times, then dropped it. It had burned down all the way. He pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it in shaky hands. He lifted the jacket to his nose again and breathed it in for a while, thinking about what he’d say to Gerard when he came home. He smoked less than half the cigarette when he saw Gerard’s car turn to go into the lot. 

His legs sprung up from where he was and started to run around the building into the lot. He sprinted to where Gerard’s parking spot was, cigarette still in his mouth. Gerard climbed out of the car, sluggishly, pulling a plastic bag full of takeout with him. When he saw Frank jogging towards him he stared, not sure what to do.

“I’m sorry.” Frank yelled, fifteen feet away from Gerard. He began to speak normally as he got closer to him. “I’m sorry I came home and started being a dick. I’m sorry it seemed like I didn’t appreciate what you had done to help get me sober. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry for making you feel bad.” He reached out and touched Gerard’s hair, then his cheek.

“I forgive you.” Gerard whispered, then he cleared his throat. “Is that my jacket?” He asked, pulling the cigarette from Frank’s mouth and putting it in between his own lips. 

“I missed you, it smells like you.” Frank sniffed the air, Gerard’s scent from his jacket and his presence filling the area. “And it’s really soft and warm.”

“It’s one of my favorite jackets.” Gerard reached out and touched the inside of the jacket underneath Frank’s shoulder.

“Mine too.” He picked up the bag of food and began to carry it to the apartment.

Frank held out his hand for Gerard to take. He locked their pinkies together, holding them together tight. They walked in silence to the elevator, Gerard finishing the cigarette. Frank kept looking back at him smoking, his eyes fluttering shut when he inhaled, his cheeks hollowing out. He almost walked into the closed doors of the elevator. Gerard dropped the finished cigarette on the porcelain floor of the elevator, killing it with a rub from the bottom of his sneaker. As they entered the apartment, they began to take their shoes off, wanting to relax with one another.

“Are you not wearing socks?” Frank asked, a chirp of laughter escaping him.

“No, I left without them and I felt too awkward to come back for some.” Gerard laughed.

“I’m sorry I was being awful.” Frank sighed, looking up to Gerard’s eyes.

“You wanna talk about it?” Gerard asked, looking like he was trying to hold back from gripping Frank’s shoulders.

“Yeah, can we talk while we eat? I’m starving.” He yawned.

“Yeah, me too.” Gerard nodded.

“You know where I want to sit to eat?” Frank asked with a grin.

“Where?” Gerard looked at him, both their eyes were puffy.

“The fire escape.” He looked at the closed window. “Have you ever sat there?”

“No, I always kind of felt like that was your place.” Gerard shrugged.

“Do you want to eat out there with me?” Frank asked, really wanting him to agree.

“I do, but I wanna get socks on first.” Gerard agreed. Frank turned to go out, but Gerard caught him by the arm and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Frank said without skipping a beat. “I never want to lose you.”

“I never want to lose you either. I’m going to go put socks on, then I’ll be out there.” Gerard said softly directly into his ear. He kissed the top of his head then turned to go into the bedroom.

Frank climbed out of the window and set the food down. He sat on the railing and pulled the jacket closer to his body, letting the aroma of Gerard fill his head. He sat for a second, thinking about lighting another cigarette until Gerard climbed out of the window and set a socked foot the railing. He sighed as he sat on the next to Frank, pushing his back into the guard rail, he laid his head back, exposing his neck.

“Hey gorgeous.” Frank smiled sleepily, opening the plastic. “Do you want a cigarette?”

“Yes please.” Gerard grinned, watching him intently as he pulled two sticks from the pack.

Frank handed him one and he held it in his mouth, waiting for a light. Frank put his own in his mouth and lit the lighter between them. Gerard leaned into it and so did Frank, their cigarettes igniting at the same time. Frank sat back and began unpacking the food eagerly. Even though Gerard acted so angry with him, he had gone to pick up food from Frank’s favorite Chinese place. He smiled to himself, watching Gerard pick up a box and a pair of chopsticks. He attempted to feed himself, cigarette still between his teeth. He grunted in frustration and moved the cigarette to the side with his lips and tongue, then fed himself noodles. 

“That day that we went to the hill,” Frank began, wiping his face with a napkin. Gerard nodded, letting him know he remembered. “Powder called. He offered me some heroin, said it was really good stuff. I said no, of course. But I’ve just been thinking about it a lot.” 

“Do you want it?” Gerard asked after he had swallowed. He took a long drag of his cigarette. 

“Of course I want it. But it isn’t worth it.” Frank shrugged, keeping his eyes averted.

“If it isn’t worth it, then why even think about it? Why let it get you in such a bad mood?” Gerard asked, not meaning to be coarse, just genuinely curious as to why Frank wanted it.

“It’s…” Frank looked up to him, looking for the answer in his eyes. “The thoughts just come to me, I don’t want to want the heroin, I  _ hate  _ heroin. It’s just something my body wants.” He picked up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and put the whole thing in his mouth, not wanting to talk anymore. When he had finished swallowing it and Gerard was eating in silence, he realized he had to say something else. “It’s an addiction.”

“You don’t just do it for…” Gerard trailed off, sighing.

“For what?” Frank sat up, putting his food aside. The mix of the cigarettes and fight with Gerard had taken its toll on his appetite and he wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“You don’t just do it for your gratification without thinking about the people who love you? I don’t mean to offend you or be rude, I’m just wondering.” Gerard tapped the ash off his cigarette.

“No…” Frank gathered his thoughts. “Of course I thought about people I loved while I did it. I didn't love them any less when I was getting high. I always thought about how much it would hurt them if they knew I was doing it?” Frank felt his throat contract.

“Did you ever think about me when you were doing drugs?” Gerard asked after letting silence hang in the air for a moment.

“Of course I did.” Frank said, considering lighting another cigarette. “I think about you all the time.”

“What did you think about me?” Gerard stretched his legs out, nudging Frank’s shin with his socked foot. He let it rest there. 

“I thought ‘don’t do it, it’s gonna hurt Gerard if he finds out.’” Frank reached his arm out and touched Gerard’s leg.

“And did that thought hurt you?” Gerard asked, stubbing out his cigarette and flicking it out into the alley. The sun had begun to set. “Another one?”

“So much.” Frank nodded slowly, lighting another cigarette in his mouth, then handing it to Gerard. He lit another one and set it between his teeth. Began to think about dying from smoking too many cigarettes. “Made me nauseous a lot, actually. The thought of you finding out I had done drugs.”

“So what was it like when I had found out?” Gerard asked, puffing out a cloud of gray. 

“I wanted to disappear,” Frank answered without a second thought. “I was embarrassed, I felt sick, ashamed. Awful.”

“I’m sorry that made you feel so bad. I had no idea.” He looked at him, admiring his nose colored pink from the cold.

“How’d it feel for you to find out I was a drug addict?” Frank asked.

“Felt like a punch in the gut.” Gerard chuckled. “I felt  _ horrible _ .” 

“Do you still feel bad about it? Like embarrassed or ashamed of me? Or disappointed in me?” Frank asked, hopeful he would say not, but afraid he’d say yes.

“No,” He answered. “Not in the slightest.” He crawled over to him and laid his head in Frank’s lap. 

They stared out over the alley and the sliver of street they could see. People were walking around, a few through the alley back and forth. Many passed the piece of the street and sidewalk they could see. Frank noticed an abundance of children, holding onto their parent’s hands as they walked. Wrapped in tight scarves and huge jackets, the little ones wearing beanies. Occasionally, there’d be an unruly child who would break their grip from their parent’s hands and try to go their own way, but a single verbal call, and they were back by their side. Staring up and waiting for them to make the next move.

“Do you want kids?” Frank ran a hand through Gerard’s hair, his fingers trailed down to touch his soft cheek underneath his eye.

“I can’t get pregnant.” Gerard stated.

“You know what I mean.” Frank laughed and pushed him slightly. “Have you ever thought about adopting kids.”

“With you? Yeah.” Gerard nodded against his stomach. “Not before that though. Why do you ask?”

“There’s a ton of kids everywhere.” Frank pointed to the street that was growing dark. The street lights had started to flicker on, one by one.

“Yes.” Gerard laughed.

“I want one.” Frank said with haste.

“Me too.” Gerard agreed. “I want to raise a kid with you.”

-

Gerard's snored broke through the silence, and sent a sense of comfort through the whole apartment, pushing Frank further back into sleep. In his want for drugs haze, he had been unable to sleep for a while. But tonight, he felt it calling him, and he gave in easily. Wanting it.

_ Frank walked through the dark alley, he recognized it as the one next to the building where he and Gerard lived. Usually it was lit by the moon, but tonight, it wasn’t present. It left him alone in total darkness, he looked up. No stars. His eyes strained desperately trying to see his way through the dark. He trudged on through, walking past what felt like miles of the same building. He wasn’t getting anywhere. When he realized he wasn’t going anywhere, panic injected itself into his veins like ice water. _

_ He began to run. But his legs felt like they were underwater, he pushed and pushed, trying his hardest to sprint to the end in sight. But his legs moved in slow motion. The dragging of his sneakers on the asphalt sounded underneath him and he fell to his knees. He screamed out of frustration when he couldn’t stand. His legs felt like they were asleep. Frozen, but still tingling with life. He put his feet flat on the ground and pushed himself up off the ground, he was brought up for a moment, but his knees wouldn’t straighten. He fell back down to the ground and began to crawl. He used his arms to drag his body and useless legs across the disgusting pavement and to the end. _

_ A figure stood at the end of the alley. He recognized it as Gerard. He began to crawl faster, trying to lift his legs up far enough that he could crawl on his knees, but they wouldn’t comply. Gerard held an arm out to him and he opened his mouth to yell for him, but his throat was closed. Frozen and unable to work.  _ _ Gerard bent his knees and held both arms out, waiting for Frank as if he was forbade to cross the threshold into the alley. He said something, Frank could hear him scream. But he couldn’t make out what he said. He got closer and close to Gerard, his figure growing in the dark until he was in front of him. _

_ Gerard picked him up and began carrying him down the street. He  walked in the middle of the street, no traffic. The street lights lit up his face a dull yellow and Frank reached out and caressed it. Gerard smiled delicately and leaned into his touch. Gerard carried him in his arms until they reached an unmarked car, sitting still in the middle of the empty street. Motor humming, exhaust fumes coming from the back, trunk open. _

_ Gerard pressed a kiss to his forehead and laid him in the trunk as if he was made of glass. Frank felt overcome by a feeling of being surrounded by doom and he cried out for Gerard to pick him back up, but he laughed woefully, a single tear fell onto his peaceful face. He wanted to ask him where he was going, why he was putting him down, what was wrong, but he couldn't speak. It hurt to lie in the trunk and he wanted out. He began to try to climb out, reach for Gerard. But his limbs stayed frozen and numb. _

_They stared at each other, each of them wanting Frank to get out of the trunk. Frank wanted back in Gerard's arms. Didn't want to be in this strange trunk anymore. The fear of the lid closing pierced his chest, he didn't want to be locked in this box. The longer Gerard looked down at him the sadder his face had become. He laid one hand on the trunk lid and the other on Frank's cheek. He began to cry, a tear falling onto Frank's face and leaking down the side of his cheek. Gerard's hands felt extremely hot against his skin, but he pressed his face harder to it. He turned his head until his lips were pressed to his palm and laid a kiss in it._

_"Keep it until we are to meet again."  He whispered hoarsely, his vocal chords drying up._

_ The trunk shut on him, a hand that did not belong to Gerard’s closed it softly. The click made him flinch. His limbs worked now, and he pulled himself up onto his elbows. He knocked on the top of the trunk, hoping Gerard would open it, but he could feel the car moving now. Moving very fast. He started to slap the inside of the lid, trying to open it. It didn’t budge. He used his legs to kick the sides of the car, but to no avail. He had begun to feel very claustrophobic and panic overwhelmed him as he hit the top harder. The car stopped and his body jerked. He punched the lid, screaming for help. A single metal clink hit the top of the lid and he felt his oxygen begin to become scarce.  _

-

Frank pressed his lips to Gerard’s his lips parted slightly. He chuckled into his mouth, the deep vibrations traveled down Frank’s throat and sat at the top of his stomach like sweet cream. Gerard attempted to pull away, not wanting to be late. Frank gripped his shoulder and pulled him onto the cold floor with him. Gerard didn't put up much fight. He let his legs relax and his body sink down. He dropped his backpack, but left his coat on his shoulders. 

“Stay,” Frank said into his ear. “Just for a few more minutes.”

“Only a few more minutes.” Gerard agreed, laying his head on Frank’s shoulder.

“What else could possibly be done to your painting to make it any better?” Frank asked, stroking his cheek.

“Just basic things like a few more highlights and making the eyes look more glassy. I also have to varnish the whole thing. Which is gonna be a nightmare.” Gerard groaned at the thought of it.

“Why? It’s gonna be that bad?” Frank looked down but could only see Gerard’s forehead, eyelashes, and nose.

“Yes!” He sighed. He dropped his head down into Frank’s lap and looked up at him. “We have to open the windows up so it’s gonna be fucking freezing. He even wants me to wear a mask because of all the fumes.”

“Fumes?” Frank furrowed his brow. “I’m lost.”

“I’ve gotta cover the whole canvas in a sealant type thing to preserve and protect it for a long time. But the department didn’t want to buy the non toxic or odorless one. Since I have so much area to cover.” Gerard finished with a huff.

“Sounds rough.” Frank teased, poking Gerard in the ribs.

“I have to take a break every twenty minutes at the most and let the room ‘ _ clear out’  _ as Hopkins says.” He used his fingers to make air quotes and squinted his eyes when he repeated what Hopkins had told him.

“Well, at least after this nightmare you’ll be finished.” Frank leaned his body down and pressed a kiss to Gerard’s soft lips. “You won’t have to leave at night for so long anymore.”

“I’ll still be in art school after this. I probably will have to leave sometimes.” Gerard whispered against his lips and giggled.

“Ugh,” Frank faked frustration and fell onto his back. “Art school is stealing my boyfriend from me!” He yelled into the air. Gerard hopped up and covered Frank’s mouth with both hands.

“Hush! Art school doesn’t know I have a thing on the side with you.” Gerard laughed. Frank stuck his tongue out and wet Gerard’s palm that was covering his mouth with saliva. “That doesn’t gross me out.” Gerard giggled, still covering Frank’s muffled words. He bit softly into his hand and Gerard pulled his hands away, his face flush from laughing.

“I’ll fight art school to have you all to myself.” Frank grunted, pinning Gerard, who was still in a fit of laughter, on the floor by his wrists. He straddled him.

“I have to go visit art school now!” Gerard cackled. He caught his breath and lowered his laughter. “It’s getting late I really should go.”

“I’ll never let you go to art school!” Frank faked melodrama. 

“Oh no!” Gerard tried to get his wrists loose, but his laughing fit had decreased his strength. “I guess I’ll just have to accept my life on the floor now. Where I’ll stay forever!” He began to laugh again.

“You have to live on the floor forever. I'll let you loose once a week to stretch your legs.” Frank let go of his forearms and fell onto the floor next to him. 

“Twice a week and it's a deal.” Gerard nudged him, panting. “Shit,” He glanced at his watch. “I really am going to be late, I’ll see you later tonight pumpkin.” He picked up his backpack and his keys. “Or probably in the morning. Goodnight! I love you!” He rushed out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3333 i cannot thank you all enough for your positive reaction to my story so far. the end is near, darlings.


	23. Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, my gratitude for your support and attention is endless.

Frank gasped as he sat up in a cold sweat, all his limbs were trembling. The skin on his arm twitched as the muscle underneath clenched and flinched underneath. He watched it until the movement ceased, fascinated by how his body was reacting to slight temptation. He felt the skin under his eye begin to twitch and he rubbed his face rather hard, trying to rid himself of any involuntary muscle movements. He sighed and sat up, wanting to lay his head in Gerard’s lap. Noticed he wasn’t there. Where was he?

Oh, that’s right. He remembered. At the studio. He moaned in frustration and rolled over onto his stomach. Despite his lazy efforts, his body hadn’t ceased shaking or holding tremors beneath his sweaty flesh. He let them do their role, ticking under his skin like a clock counting the seconds left until he was met by a vicious wave of sickness that would take him under and hold him there until he was hunched over hugging his knees in pain. He sat up, trying to breathe as much air as he could hold to lessen the nausea as it began to arise. He began to count backwards from a thousand, something Gerard had told him to do before when he was feeling sick. It had worked most times. Once he reached around twenty five, the nausea had subsided into a dull ache. 

The blue suede backpack, his old backpack, sat on the floor under the window caught his eye. It hunched over, lonely. His lips curled into an involuntary smile as he began to think about high school and how he carried that backpack on his shoulders every long day. Then when he was homeless, it was the same backpack, holding his essentials. Now it sat alone, unneeded. He crawled down onto the floor and across it sitting under the window with it in his lap. He flicked the lap on the nightstand on and began looking at his old possessions. A handful of months ago, this was all he owned.

His notebook, only a few blank pages left. They mocked him, begging to be filled with some kind of words or anything. He made a mental note to himself to fill the book with something more. He collected his pens and pencils from the front, smaller pouch. The majority of the pens were red and blue ballpoint pens. One was from a bank, the chain still connected to the top of the pen, but he had wiggled it loose and bent it back and forth enough times, he was able to disconnect it and slip it into his pocket when the clerk had her head down. There was the collection loose bills he had stuffed into an empty Altoids can. He counted it, came out with thirty four dollars. After he had looked at everything in the backpack, and put it back inside, he eventually let his fingers wrap around the glasses case. He had opened it the other day, but only a bit to put the new bag of heroin inside. But he didn’t open it enough to see inside. Hadn’t wanted to see inside.

The case came open easily between the pressure of his fingers pulling it apart, like a forbidden fruit. There sat the burnt spoon, two needles still in the sterile packing, and the little bag of heroin. Before he realized what he was doing, he was in front of the sink, filling a cup with a small amount of water. He pulled the belt from the pair of jeans lying on the ground with ease and sat on the bed, his feet laid flat on the floor. He wrapped the belt around his bicep and used his teeth to pull it tight, locked the hook into the notch. Shook a bit the tan powder into the dip of the spoon and tore open the needle package. He let a few drops of water fall into the powder and he mixed it with the needle tip delicately. He pulled the lighter from the nightstand and began heating the metal, watching the drug begin to bubble right before his eyes. He used the needle to mix it a little bit more, then dropped a piece of cotton into it once he decided it was cooked enough. Sucked the warm liquid up into the syringe through tip pressed into the cotton. He dropped the spoon and the bag of heroin back into the case and let it fall into the backpack, hidden.

He gasped when the tip touched his skin, the vein he had found was practically protruding out of his skin, coaxing him into shooting up. Not much demanding was needed, he wanted it so bad, his mind was empty of everything but the heroin up until now. Now he had started to think about Gerard. When did he say he’d be home? What if he found the drugs and Frank was passed out? Before he had much time to protest against going through with it, the tip was in his body and pushing further in. The blood swirled in with the drug and he watched in adoration before pushing the syringe down.

The liquid flowed through his veins and seemed to travel through his whole body. He pulled the needle from his arm and dropped it onto the floor, then pulled the belt from his arm. It was done. The high was filling his head, making his thoughts swim. Still, he was thinking of Gerard, but he couldn’t tell if it was real life or not. He felt the side of his face hit the pillow and he pulled his feet up onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling like he was about to float away.

They were together, sitting on a soft cloud up high, above everything else. Frank pushed his fingers through it and left perforations, letting the ground far underneath the two become visible to them. Gerard clung to him, afraid of how high up they were, but Frank wasn’t scared. Wasn’t worried at all. He knew together, they’d be safe up here. As safe as possible. He pushed the side of the tip of his index finger gently into Gerard’s cupid's bow, sending him the message that all was perfect. He pursed his lips and laid a soft kiss upon his finger before he pulled it back away. He now felt safe, wasn’t worried about falling anymore.

They both laid down, the two on their backs. Gerard laughed softly and pointed to the pink sky. The sun was setting and it was warm. Frank’s whole body felt comfortably warm, like it was the nicest day of the spring time. He stretched his limbs out until he felt like he was going to pop, then he watched Gerard do it. His legs stretching so far his feet hung off the edge. The laces of his shoes hung loosely in the high up air. He didn’t retract his legs, he let them hang there, his legs slipping down further off the edge of the cloud slowly. Frank nudged him, wondering why he was allowing himself to slip.

Gerard smiled softly and held his delicate hand out, palm facing up. Frank took it without question, wanting to go with him wherever he was planning to go. His soft, slender fingers wrapped around Frank’s hand and he laid his head back into the tender cloud, Frank did the same. He laid his head down and watched the blank sky above them, a few stars passing by. Frank noticed he could see a few planets moving across the sky. He saw a profound, blue planet silently moving past. He noticed it as Neptune, his favorite of this solar system. He began to laugh and pointed Gerard’s eyes to it. He could feel the love radiating from his fingertips into Gerard’s palm and he too fell in love with the planet. Before Frank could point out the next planet, he felt himself being pulled to the edge of the cloud. Gerard was falling.

Half his body was planted on the cloud, and his legs hung lifeless over the edge. Once the weight was too heavy over the edge, his torso easily slipped off the edge and jerked Frank’s body with him. They fell through the air together, Frank could hear it passing his ears and he looked into Gerard’s eyes. They looked calm, and Frank was not afraid. He pulled Gerard closer and held him close to his chest, holding onto him. Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank’s midsection and they fell through the sky.

With a soft, slow, painless thud, Frank and Gerard hit the ground. As he looked around, he noticed they were surrounded by flowers. All of the same type. He took one between his middle and ring finger and looked inside of it. Recognized it easily. They were all rose of Sharon flowers. A huge crowd of them. Gerard laid still, a small smile on his face. He inhaled and closed his eyes, warmth emitting from him. Frank did the same. He laid next to him. Pulled a flower from the ground and handed it to Gerard. He took it from his hand and laid it in his chest. Gerard pulled a flower of his own from the ground and began plucking the few petals off, laying them in Frank’s hair. He let him, closed his eyes when he pulled another flower from the ground and laid the petals across his forehead. Piled a few petals over his heart.

-

Frank chewed on the skin of his middle finger. He didn’t feel anticipation or dread, it was just how overwhelmingly _boring_ these meetings were. But a sense of guilt for just _being here_ after he had done drugs the night before was growing in his stomach. Lucky for him, he had reached the peak of his high before Gerard had come home and was able to clean up and relax about what he had done, thought of different ways to bring it up. He got lucky he had woken up from the high dream before Gerard got home. His supplies were all out, and he was laying in the bed on his side, dreaming of him. Surprisingly, today he didn’t feel sick at all. He wasn’t tired or nauseous. His muscles even felt relaxed. And that was the worst part. Ray nudged him with his elbow. He was pulled from his deep thoughts to look up to see most of the people in the room staring at him.

“Frank?” The host of these meetings, Frank couldn’t remember his name. “You wanna come up here and talk?”

“No, not particularly.” Frank scoffed, holding his damp knuckle to his bottom lip.

“Come on, you haven’t spoken yet. It’ll be good for you.” He coaxed him to the podium. “Come on, kiddo.”

“Fine.” Frank sighed, standing up. He stood up at the podium and thought in silence for a second, thinking about what to say. “First, I just wanna say don’t call me kiddo. It’s Frank and _only_ Frank.”

“Shit, my bad! Sorry about that!” The host yelled from the seat he had taken in the back.

“Well, I don’t really know what to say up here. I guess when the rest of you get up here, you just talk about what led you here.” He cleared his throat, still thinking of what to say. “What got me in here was that I had overdosed on pain pills. Opiates.”

“Relax.” Ray mouthed from where he was sitting. He made a gesture like he was exhaling all his air. Frank nodded and relaxed, leaning his elbows on the podium. He wanted to laugh at how nervous he had been in front of this crowd before. They were either too eager to hear him speak or looked like they wanted to kick his ass.

“But before I had done that, I ran away from home. I wanted something my parents didn’t agree with, I liked boys. So I left and lived on the streets for a while. I started doing heroin and eventually, I got addicted.” He sighed. “But I met someone and he helped me get clean off that shit. I reconnected with my family and I still achieved my dream. I’m in a band and we’re growing. We’ve only had two shows so far but we have fans.” He paused. “Excuse me, thank’s for listening. I need a cigarette.” He stepped off the podium and rushed outside, a weak collection of applause following him.

The air in there had felt like it became thin and too hot. He broke through the front door and sat on the curb in front of the building, lighting up a cigarette. After smoking so many the other day, he had wanted to stop, but now wasn’t the time. He’d work at it later, but right now he felt like he was panicking too much to turn down a cigarette.

“You okay?” Ray sighed and sat next to him.

“Fine.” Frank ground his teeth in annoyance with his own actions. "I'm okay."

“You didn’t look too fine.” Ray said, sounding genuinely curious as to what was the matter. 

“Want one?” Frank offered him a cigarette. 

“No, thanks.” He scrunched his face up. Frank just solemnly nodded. “Whats going on?”

“I don't wanna talk about it.” He exhaled smoke,

“You do, I know you do. I’m not here to judge, I’m here to listen. If you don’t get it out somewhere, all that energy gets directed towards the people who don’t deserve it.” Ray sighed, wondering if he should accept a cigarette just to make a connection with Frank at the moment. 

“You’re right." Frank grunted. "I’ve been having cravings. My old drug dealer called me offered some H. Can't stop thinking about it.”

“And you wanna get high?” Ray asked the obvious question. 

 

‘Yeah. I won't lie.” Frank took a long drag. "But I just want to feel good. I don't want to do heroin, or hurt anyone, or put that gross shit back in my body. I just want to feel fucking better- I don't want to want the drugs." 

“Yeah.” Ray chuckled softly. "I totally get what you're saying. But, you've got to adapt, Frank. What else makes you feel good?" He asked.

"Music. My boyfriend." He thought for a moment. "The thought of going to college for astrophysics."

"Then make music." Ray said, his voice rising at the end to emphasize how obvious the solution was. "Hang out with your boyfriend. Go to fuckin' college and get your degree in astrophysics, Frank. But don't let this shit get the best of you, you're so so young." He dropped his hand on his back and patted it. 

“I don’t know what id do without you, man.” Frank stubbed out his cigarette on the road. "Thanks for talking to me when I need it."

“Hey, that's what sponsors are for. You wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?” He asked, chuckling. "Or should you go eat with Gerard?"

“No,” Frank checked his watch. “He’ll still be in school for like four more hours, and I’m starving. Let's go.”

-

“See you after the dinner.” Gerard pressed a kiss to his forehead. He hadn’t even really wanted to go to the art student dinner. He didn't get along well with anyone other than Eugene in his class, and he felt like he had better things to do anyway. He had been dreading this dinner since he found out about it. 

“Bye, have fun.” Frank caressed his cheek and pulled him down to kiss him on the mouth.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Gerard asked, still hunched over the couch, close to Frank’s face.

“No, I don’t. Why?” He still let his hand lay on Gerard’s warm cheek.

“I was thinking we could go down to my mom’s house. Mikey says he’s been wanting to see you, says life over there is boring.” He laughed. "Says he's going stir crazy."

“Yeah, that sounds great. Wanna leave in the morning?” Frank asked, wanting to complain when Gerard pulled away from his touch to leave, but he knew he couldn’t be late to the dinner.

“Wanna have breakfast somewhere first? We’re all out of bread so no toast if we eat it here.” Gerard sighed. “What’s breakfast without toast?”

“Yeah,” Frank giggled. “Let’s get breakfast first.” He groped Gerard’s thigh as he turned towards the front door to leave.

“Goodnight, I love you.” Gerard said as he opened the door. He waved to him.

“I love you so much. Goodnight.” Frank sighed as he watched the door close behind him, another night of waiting for Gerard to come home.

He lay on the couch for about twenty minutes, tossing and turning constantly in different sides as he clicked through the channels. Restless, not having the attention span to focus on anything he could watch. It had been not long, but his body felt it was too long to continue waiting for more heroin, it was begging for it. He wished he hadn’t shot up that night, but he had. And he couldn’t do anything to change that. But maybe just once more before he’d have to break the awful news to Gerard and go through detox again.

In the bedroom, the backpack sat slouching between the bed and nightstand, he picked it up by the top and walked swiftly with it back to the couch. It bounced against his thigh and he felt like he was getting choked up. He sat on the couch and dug through the bag with shaky hands, his underarms dampening with nerves. The case came into view and he hesitated for a moment before lifting it from the bag. 

He opened the glasses case and stared back at the bag of heroin and needle inside. Begging to be used. He took the spoon out and shook a little on. No big deal, just a bit. Detoxing off this shit was going to be a bitch. It was going to hurt even more to let Gerard know he had been on heroin again. He pulled the tiniest bit of water from his glass that sat on the table with the needle and dripped it into the powder and mixed it. Lit the bottom and watched it bubble into one smooth mix into the spoon. He dropped the cotton into the puddle and sucked it up through the tip.

Inside the skin, his veins vibrated in pleasure, gripping hard to the needle and sending his blood up inside to mix with the drug. Slowly, he pushed the liquid inside, his lungs sucking up all the air they could before he started to slouch down. He ripped the belt off his arm and laid down on the couch feeling it spread through. It traveled so much faster than he was used to and he sank further into the couch, his face pointed to the ceiling. A warm membrane surrounded his whole body. Covered his arms, dripped onto his stomach, gripped his legs, and held delicately onto his face. He smiled and swore he could smell Gerard. He imagined it was him holding him. 

Something in the back of his brain told him if he fell asleep he wouldn’t wake up again. No brief shock of panic hit him, not slap in the face, or punch in the gut met him. Not even a sliver of surprise, only acceptance and peace with the matter. He hadn't known if it was true or not, maybe just the paranoia. Probably just his own imagination trying to scare him. Though the apartment was a bit chilly under the window and he wished he was under a blanket, he closed his eyes. He was so tired, and the warm glow he felt surrounding his body and clinging to his sleepy nerves was too comfortable to fight against.

He tried to lift his arm to write a letter to Gerard, if he could only pull the notebook from the bag and a pen. But his limbs would not comply. He fought harder, his arm lifted roughly, as if it was the heaviest thing he'd ever picked up, but he couldn’t close his fist. He threw his hand inside the bag and felt the book, he could feel each page, but couldn't hold it. That was too bad, he had really wanted to finish the book.

He wanted to lay on his side, but he didn’t have the strength to flip onto his side. The room around him grew dark around the edges and he complied, shutting his eyes and welcoming sleep. It was comfortable, there was no pain, only warmth and the knowledge that he was loved. With the last, final realization that he was loved and would be until Gerard was in the ground himself, and even after, he let the air from his lungs loose as a single tear fell down the side of his face. As he fell asleep, he noticed the couch smelled like Gerard, that's where his scent was coming from. He made a point to breathe deeper with each inhale, wanting to take the scent wherever he was to go.

-

In the elevator, Gerard laughed at a joke one of his classmates had told. He wanted to tell Frank. Even though he wouldn’t get it since it was an art joke, he knew he’d still appreciate it and laugh, asking him to explain it. Gerard tried to think of the shortest way to explain it, holding back a laugh, but it came out as a snort. The elevator dinged and the doors parted. He slid out, walking fast so he could tell the joke. He was hoping Frank wouldn’t be asleep. Though it was late, he never went to bed early. Gerard unlocked the door, still laughing to himself. He opened the door, only the soft blue glow of the TV dripped into the living room. He removed his jacket and hung it. Frank laid on the couch, his nose pointing strait to the roof. His leg hung off the side, the bottom of his foot glued to the floor and his hand laid in his backpack, hidden.

Gerard crept over to him and reached out to touch his face, but he froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. The stench reached him now, and he struggled to keep himself upright. Frank had vomit leaking from his mouth, going down the side of his cheek and seeping into the couch. His eyes were shut, his chest still. Gerard grabbed him by his shoulders and sat his body up. It flopped over like a rag doll and folded in half. Frank began to fall on the floor and Gerard let his own body sink down, holding his head in his lap.  

Gerard exhaled heavily, a moan of pain coming from deep in his throat. The noise startled him. He used his index and middle finger to scoop the vomit out of Frank’s mouth. He emptied the crevice and put his fingers deeper until he touched the back of his throat and scooped the vomit from there. He pushed his fingers into the back of his throat to make him gag, but he didn’t react. The vomit piled on his jeans and the floor and the smell filled his nose, it made his stomach churn and he saw his tears fall and sink into Frank’s hair. He hadn’t noticed he was crying until now. Gerard knew he should check his pulse, but he was too afraid to feel it.

“Frank, please let me know what to do.” He cried. “You’re gonna be alright, pumpkin. You’re going to be okay, you’ll be alright.” He repeated to himself, dragging Frank from the apartment. He didn’t have the strength to take him and pick him up in his arms. In the hall, his tossed him over his back with a loud wail. He hung loosely.

He rode with him on his back down the elevator, his heart was beating too fast and his whole body was sweating. Strands of drool dripped from Frank’s mouth onto Gerard’s shoulder. Was that supposed to be a good sign? At least he wasn’t vomiting. Or was he supposed to be vomiting? Gerard couldn’t think straight, he wanted the doors to fucking part already. They finally did, after what felt like an eternity and he sprinted to the lot, Frank bouncing helplessly on his shoulder. He tossed him into the passenger seat and shut the door, running to the other side, his hands shook so badly it took him two tries to get the key in the ignition.

“I love you more than anything!” He screamed, smacking his steering wheel. “You are my everything!” He sobbed, breathing raggedly. He couldn’t see the traffic around him, his eyes blurred and his body falling into panic mode.

He pushed the gas down on the empty road toward the hospital. He looked over to Frank, who slouched in the seat, his head hung loosely on his neck, his hands laid between his thighs. Gerard reached out, taking his trembling hand off the steering wheel and held onto Frank’s limp fingers, both of their hands clammy, but only Gerard’s moving.

“I love you so much.” He spoke, his voice unwavering. “You’ve gotta make it out of this alive, Frank, my love.” He turned into the hospital parking lot. He didn’t bother finding an actual parking spot, he just stopped his car in the front. He left the keys in the ignition. The motor still ran as he pulled Frank’s limp body from the passenger seat and dragged him to the front as far as his body could go.-

He screamed for someone to help Frank as his own legs bent and gave out underneath him. He fell onto the concrete, gasping for air as his tears choked him. Paramedics rushed to them and examined Frank before taking him inside. The receptionist from the last time Frank had come through sat in front of him on the pavement. He sniffled and she took his hand, it was soft and warm. She held his hands between hers, the pressure felt nice.

“Do you want to come inside to the waiting room?” She asked after Gerard had stopped whimpering. He only nodded, too scared to speak. “Come on, darling. We’ll get you something to drink and I’ll snag a blanket for you.

He stood up and allowed her to lead him inside. He felt drunk, everything he saw took a moment to register in his mind and none of it felt solid. His feet were dragging underneath him and he began to hyper focus on picking up his feet and moving them individually as he walked. Lift, forward, down. Lift, forward, down. Only now had he noticed he wasn't wearing a jacket, and he was shivering. He really wanted that blanket.

-

The same chair he had been in was slumped underneath him, he had watched Frank disappear behind those doors again. The styrofoam cup of coffee he held in his hands had gone cold, he hadn’t lifted it to his lips once. His eyes were wide, waiting for Frank’s doctor to come through and tell him what room he was in so he could see him. He glanced down for a moment, checking his watch. Over an hour had passed, he tried to calculate the minutes, but his brain was drawing a blank. Wouldn't do simple math for him. His eyes fixed to the closed doors again and went out of focus, waiting for something to happen.

Finally, when the doors had opened, he stood up too quick. A bit of coffee splashed out and sank into hit shirt. It didn't bother him much. He set the cup down on the table covered in magazines. He began to walk over to the man. They made eye contact with him and took a few steps toward him. The realization that it might not have been Frank’s doctor loomed over his head, but he quickly stood in front of the man.

“I’m Gerard, Frank Iero’s family.” He spoke fast. “Are you his doctor?”

“Oh,” The doctor cleared his throat. “Hello, I’m David, so sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” Gerard felt his head swimming and didn’t care to know his name. “I’m so afraid I have bad news, despite our efforts, Frank Iero has passed.”

“He…” Gerard ran his tongue on the back of his top teeth, dissecting the words. It wouldn’t set it fully and he turned. "Did it hurt?"

"No, no it didn't hurt at all." The doctor shook his head. 

"Was he... sad? When he left me?" Gerard asked, his voice grim.

"Well, usually when someone goes to opiate overdose, like heroin, they're happy. You don't have to worry about any suffering from his end. I can guarantee you, he was happy, warm, comfortable, and knew he was loved."

“Thank you, doctor." He tried to not let his manners slip. "Excuse me,” He began to walk through the hospital doors, towards his car. This must be a dream, he had to drive back home and get to bed, then everything would be set back to normal. Of course it was a dream, a nightmare. He just needed to wake up. “I should get going.” He said to no one as he turned the engine over. “I love you, pumpkin. More than anything, forever.” His eyes felt weak, but he slowly continued down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes darlings, we've reached the end (there will be an epilogue). i do hope i've spread my ultimate message. which was, despite what you'e heard, drug addicts are not one dimensional, loveless, selfish beings. they're capable of so much more loving than just for their drug. you've all been so great for these past few months i've been writing this story. i can't thank you enough.


	24. Epilogue

Gerard held onto his key ring. He had intended to go down to the studio an hour ago, that was the plan. Fill out a card with his name, the art title, and the medium. He had thought about titles the whole time he had painted, but none stuck. None felt right. The only collection of words he could think of was ‘ _Frank.’_ Maybe he'd just use that. It was a perfect title.

He couldn't remember the exact time he sat on the couch. He had come home from the funeral, laid down. Slept for what felt like not long enough. Let a day pass. Got dressed and sat on the couch, waiting to get the energy to leave the apartment. It was dark when he had sat down, but now he could see sun light coming in through the windows. It was morning. Had he been there for minutes? Hours? It was the art show day, he knew that.

“Ouch.” He hissed, flinching at the sudden pain in his hand.

He looked down and saw blood coming out in dots from his skin, collecting in his palm. He was holding on so hard to a key that it pushed so far into his hand, that the skin split. The red contrasted against his light skin. He hadn't noticed until now, but his hands were sweating. There was a slight tremor in his core, like a shiver, but he wasn't cold. It made his whole body flinch erratically. Finally, he broke his gaze and looked up at the room, his eyes falling on the blue suede backpack slouched under a stool in the kitchen. He had thrown it there when he came home, not wanting to see it ever again.

Immediately, his eyes burned and filled with tears. They began to fall, thick and fast. His cheeks grew hot and red and he slid off the couch, landing hard on his knees. He tried to pick himself up, but his legs were shaking too hard. His silent tears had now turned into weeping as he began to crawl toward it.

He reached the bag quicker than his brain thought he would've and he sat in front of it, not knowing what to do now. Holding the material between his index finger and thumb. Feeling the material slowly. The trembling began to spread to his shoulders and down his arms. Slowly, he unzipped the bag, listening to every notch undo. Immediately, the notebook caught his eye. That was one of the first things he had seen Frank with. Scribbling in the notebook as he sat hunched over in the cold.

Slowly, he pulled the book out of the bag, treating it as delicate as a feather. As he felt the side of the pages with his finger, the trembling spread to his legs, began working its way down to his toes. He opened the first page, never had he intended to look inside of the book. For the first time in how long he couldn't tell, he laughed, as he read the passages in Frank's voice. Imagining him thinking these words, then writing them down.

_“February 10._

_Happy Valentine's Day to whoever finds this when I inevitably die out here. (Just kidding(I hope.)) I've been able to find warmth in shelters and food here. But it sucks. I got all my underwear stolen._ _Underwear._ _Oh well. Going commando in winter isn't as bad as it seems.”_

He smiled at the drawing of a pair of underwear underneath the words written in pencil that was beginning to smudge and wear away. He delicately touched the words. The underwear had squiggly lines coming from them so you knew they were smelly and dirty. His crying had subsided to almost nothing and he wiped his face and neck of any old, stray tears. He continued reading the passages, the dates were never consistent. Some were 1 day apart and others were 1 month apart.

_"April 4._

_Got jumped today. Had $92. Close to a hundred. Maybe I should save all the money I come in contact with. Or stop buying pills. It's only sometimes though. They help with the constant fear I have of being out here. Anyway. Now I'm broke, scared, and humiliated. Nothing out of the ordinary. I'm just glad I didn't get stabbed or shot. Anyway. I'm a bit nervous about having no money._

_No money = no quarters = no vending machines + no clean laundry."_

The handwriting was in red ink this time. It flowed together unlike the passage from January. Gerard blamed the shaky and rushed penmanship on the fear he had described. He continued, reading the short passages over and over again until he memorized every word. He made a mental note to come back to the long, page long passages and memorize those. He wasn't sure why he wanted to, but he felt like he needed to.

_"August 7._

_I did heroin about a week ago and I haven't had any of those bad feelings everyone talks about. Like if I_ _need_ _it. It was nice for the time being. But I don't need it. I do want it again. It was really nice. Really warm and comfy. I was happy. Not like excited happy. Just kind of relaxed happy. I wasn't worried about anything. I think I fell asleep. I had a dream of being loved. I hope one day I can feel loved without drugs. I might do heroin a few more times, I know everyone says this and can't mean it, but I do mean it: i won't get addicted. I'm just not like that. I wanna live until I'm old. I don't want to die young. I'll just do heroin a few more times. That's it."_

He reread the line about having a dream of feeling loved. Reread it until each word melted away and stopped sounding real.

_"August 9._

_There’s this apartment building in the nicer part of town and there's a few empty ones. I can't afford to rent one out, but I stay on the fire escape of my favorite one. It's in the middle, not too high- not too low. I made sure no one was staying in there. I still feel weird about it though. Its nice to get up off ground though. Now I think I can understand why some animals that are prey sleep up in trees._

_I never really thought about it, but I’m starting to wonder if, in this world, am I the predator or they prey? Lately I’ve been feeling so weak. Inside and out. Forever I’ve felt so weak. Unloved and alone. So at first thought, I decided myself prey. But are predators lonely? Do they ever feel weak? There are more prey in the wild than there are predators. So obviously there’s more community between them- so why would they feel alone? I’m not sure why I feel so unloved, and I’m not sure why I am alone. I’m also not sure if I am the predator or they prey."_

Gerard began to wonder too, was he the predator or the prey? Of course, it was an out there idea to categorize humans that way. The way humans and animals live are very different. Or, at least humans would like to think so. There are some points where they way of life overlaps. But is it even possible to categorize humans in two slots. Whether they are predator or prey. Does that equate to weak or strong? Could prey be stronger than the predator? Could predator be more afraid than the prey? What decided where humans would get separated? He couldn’t find himself in either side.

_"November 19._

_I met someone. He found me and let me inside his apartment. We talked for hours, about things I can't recall now. I felt like I've known him forever. Like I've been waiting to come back to him. He feels - for a lack of a better term- like home? It's such a stupid cliche term to call someone your home, but I can’t think of anything else. I've only known him for a short amount of time but I feel like we clicked immediately. I really want to see more of him. He's got the prettiest eyes and the sweetest voice. He's so kind. It isn't fake kindness as far as I can tell. It's real. He's being kind to be for real for no other reason than he likes me. That's terrifying."_

Gerard choked on a sob and began to cry harder. Remembering how small and scared Frank looked the first time he came inside and they shared coffee. His fingers touched the date, thinking back to that exact day. He hadn't seen Frank that day, but before he'd fallen asleep he had heard his footsteps coming up the fire escape. Then back down after a moment. He read it over and over again, whimpering slightly as the weight of the words felt heavier.

_"December 16._

_Detox. A nasty bitch is coming for me tomorrow. But I’ll meet her with gritted teeth and without my head bowed no matter how much she bloodies me. For I have decided after much consideration, I am the predator. I am seen as dangerous and rare. No one will ever ask me for my side of the story, only the prey are to tell of people like me. Crude and dirty._

_So here’s my side of the story, I present to you: the predator."_

Gerard sat on this one for a while, a bit longer than the rest. His brow furrowed and he began to wonder if that’s truly how Frank thought people saw him. If he thought no one would care to see his side of the story about drugs.

_"January 4._

_I love him. I really do."_

He looked at the tiny passage, stared at the date. The six words written in red ink. His breathing accelerated and he could no longer control it. His chest rose and fell rapidly, beginning to hurt a bit. He couldn't catch his breath despite how much air he was taking in at once. In with gasps and out with loud, painful cries. An ache began to reside in his chest, made its presence known. Refused to be ignored. Around the edges of his sight began to darken and he closed his eyes, laid down, his head next to the book. He could almost feel warmth radiating from the entry. As he laid, his whole body began to tremble. And he let it. Didn't try to fight it or even out his breath. Just laid and let the wave overcome him.

“Frank?” He called out into the quiet apartment. His own voice scared him, he hadn’t heard it in so long. “Frank, please come back.” He yelled, half expecting him to appear from the bedroom, ready to hold him. “You can't just leave like that.” Gerard whispered, sitting up as his eye caught a glimpse of a long passage.

"February _27._

_Dearest,_

_When he was to die, Juliet wished for Romeo to be cut up into stars. Spread into the sky generously, so the whole world would fall in love with the night. She believed he was so beautiful. But the shimmer in your eyes are far more beautiful than any star made of Romeo spread across the heavens. And too many times have I looked into your eyes and seen lights made of apparent heartache. Somehow, sorrow looked nothing but stunning. I think, try to imagine, how many stars he could be cut up into once he is lifeless. How far they’d spread out across the sky. How often someone would look up into the sky and be overcome with the feeling of being beautiful. Because every time I have ever seen a twinkle of a single star in his irises I have felt nothing less than enchanting. Felt worth something. Sometimes I catch myself looking in the mirror alone. My eyes wide open, glimmering slightly. I look into the few stars and find myself stricken with grief. Feeling as if this sadness does not belong to me. If I am burdened to carry this woe that is not mine. I believe if I was carved up and spread across the dark sky, I wouldn't go far. Once one's eyes met me up in the night, they’d feel only sorrow. An uncomfortable misery, one that does not belong to them, nor me, not to anyone._

_What a nice mix us two would be in the heavens after we have departed from our temporary stay on earth. People below would look at your stars and feel stunning. My few stars would spread the feeling of the sadness of our flesh lives coming to an end. Many would grieve for us, the lovers, together in the sky for eternity._

_I do hope, my dear, I am able to hold your hand after death claims us. I want nothing more than to be able to feel your warm presence once we are long gone. This is all and apology letter, a goodbye letter, and a love letter. You are to find this after I am long gone for I cannot bear the weight of the heartache I am to feel if you were to depart before me. Oh I do hope I am to return to the sky before you. Please look up and speak to me once in a while before you are to join me. I can only assume I will be able to hear you voice. Do not be sad. But do find me in the afterlife if you still love me then. In the event we are unable to meet in heaven and meld our stars together for the sky, I will forever be with you. If we are to be departed for long before we meet in afterlife, I want you to know, I love you. I love you. I love you, forever. If anyone is to be cut up and made into the sky, it should be my dearest one. The most bright, ravishing sky you would make._

_Yours for eternity, Frank."_

As he read the last line out loud to himself, he felt melded to the floor. The reality of Frank's absence began to sink in. He stared at the wall and began to snivel on the floor, struggling to gather his composure. He called out to Frank a few more times, awaiting the response. Begging for a response, but none came. He lifted the book above him again and began to read each word of the letter slowly, taking in every emotion embedded into the notebook paper.

-

Gerard sat on the bus, his legs stretched over the seat next to him and his back pressed into the wall so no one would sit next to him. His bag sat in his lap as he held the notebook, continuing to read Frank’s passages. He had skipped over the long ones in the beginning of the book because he felt too sad to read. Most of them were funny, obviously written by frank. Who was always trying to shine light on his shitty situation. A lot of the times he’d read the passage and laugh to himself, being able to hear Frank saying the lines. One particular passage had dragged Gerard from the house.

_"Nov. 8_

_Gerard told me about this art show the art students are doing at the end of the semester. Theyre gonna make a piece of art to display and it's a competition. He said he wasn't worried about the winning title, he was just excited to get his art up. I saw a lot of his art and I'm pretty much positive that he’s going to win first place. I'm really excited to see the piece he’s talking about making. I can't wait to see him win."_

He knew Frank wouldn’t want his piece to be disqualified since he wouldn’t be there to present it or even fill out his title card. He read through the book, searching for a perfect title. He had come down to so many options that he couldn’t pick one perfect one. He had thought about generalizing it with something like ‘Passages’ or ‘Entries’, but it felt like it didn’t give enough justice to everything Frank had put on the lines of the book.

He slipped out of the bus and rushed through the campus to the studio, knowing he was already late, but the show hadn't started yet. Hopkins would be pissed, they were told to show up before the sun went down and the sun was almost all the way set. He opened the heavy doors, the room filled with noise and anxiety of other students. Most of them had their titles down, some were about as lost on that as Gerard. He sighed and looked around, some of his classmates eyed him, but he didn't mind. He hadn't even bothered to put on a coat before he left and he was wearing Frank's black boots that had red laces. It didn't exactly match with the black tie hanging loosely from his neck.

“Gerard!” Hopkins boomed. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you s-” He caught sight of him. “Oh dear, you look awful.” He sat his hands on his shoulders and began combing his fingers through his disheveled hair. “What’s going on? Have you been crying?”

“Yeah,” Gerard pulled a stool from a table and sat down, feeling like he was about to faint. “Frank, he…” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, already beginning to cry. His chest felt like it was rattling inside and he couldn't get the words out. "He's gone."

“Oh, no.” Hopkin’s brow furrowed in concern. “He passed?” He whispered. Gerard nodded. Hopkins wrapped his arms around Gerard and cradled him, holding him hard for a moment. “I'm so sorry, Gerard. When?”

“I’m not sure, what day is it?” Gerard asked, stuttering through suppressed cries.

“Saturday, dear.” He used the clean part of the napkin he had earlier used to wipe paint from his hands on Gerard’s face.

“Oh, then it must have been…” He couldn’t remember the day of the dinner. He shook his head and felt embarrassed. “I’m still not sure, it was the day of the dinner.”

“Oh, that was Sunday then. It’s been six days.” Hopkins informed him. “What happened?”

“He fell back into heroin again.” He let the tears fall weakly. “He overdosed that night and choked on his own vomit, it was awful.”

“You came home to that? You poor thing, no wonder you look like such a mess.” Hopkins looked at his outfit. It was obviously his funeral attire and he wondered if he had even so much as showered or fed himself. His slacks and white button down were wrinkled as if he’d been sleeping in them.

“Thanks,” Gerard said sarcastically, scoffing. “I just came to fill my title card and stick around for the show.”

“Oh, alright.” He wondered what he should do to help. “Let’s go fill your card and get your stuff set up. Then I’ll take you home and get you showered and fed.” He stood up from the table and willed Gerard to do the same.

“I don’t want to go home, Hopkins.” He slowly shook his head, not wanting to aggravate his headache. “I’ve gotta be here for the showing. I want to see what people think of my piece, I don’t want to miss it.” He plead.

“That’s fine, you can be here, I’ll bring you back. But I am going to get you taken care of first, alright. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.” He told him, leaving to pick up a card for him as he could tell he wouldn’t be able to stand and walk over to get one for himself.

Gerard looked at the page he had his thumb bookmarking since he had gotten off the bus. He read the passage again, thinking that the content would be a great title. He boiled it down to the key words. No, it wouldn’t fit. He rubbed at his face, still flipping through the pages trying so hard to find a good title.

“Fuck, Frank. Why are you so good with words?” He asked the pages. He looked around, suddenly remembering Eugene was an art student and should be in this room. Seeing a friend would be nice, but he couldn’t see his face. He scanned the room over and over, looking for him. He was at the funeral, but he left once the service was over. Moat and Zip had stuck around for the dinner, but neither ate much. It was an unsettling scene to see Zip so still and sad. Moat looked like he was close to falling through the floor as if he was liquid, somehow he was so much more serene than he normally was. They both moved as if they were in slow motion. He remembered he'd watched Zip cry into Moat's shirt outside of the church. He hadn't said hello to any of Frank's family, he sat in the last empty row and cried to himself. Ray sat with him and allowed him to cry on his shoulder.

“I brought you a sample card, figured your hands are shaking so bad you can’t write straight.” Hopkins pointed out, sliding him the card and a pen. “What have you got there?” He pointed to the notebook.

“Frank’s book. He’d been writing in this thing for about a year. It’s kind of like his journal.” Gerard didn’t break his gaze with the book while he was talking. “I never looked in it until today. It got me out of the house for the first time in a week, apparently.” He still couldn’t believe it was already Saturday. “Is Eugene here?”

“No, he was here yesterday. He looked like a mess too. He filled out his card and said he wouldn’t be here for the showings.”

“Oh,” Gerard figured he should call Eugene sometime. 

“Come on, take the card with you.” He could tell he wasn’t thinking about the title anymore and he didn’t want him to bring himself even more down with his thoughts. “Once you shower and eat, your head will be clearer and you’ll be able to decide for a title.”

“Alright.” Gerard slid off the seat, exhausted by the simple idea of just showering.

“You didn’t drive here did you?” Hopkins asked, opening the doors for them.

“No,” Gerard smirked, wanting to laugh but couldn’t bear it. “I may not be in the best state of mind right now, but I knew better than to drive.”

“Yes, of course, of course.” Hopkins chuckled. “You know, I was looking at your piece compared to the others and I think you have a running shot at winning.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about winning. You know that.” Gerard shrugged.

“I know, I know. But the winner has to give a speech about their piece.” Hopkins stated in the quiet air. The campus was unusually busy.

“When?” Gerard asked, knowing he’d be unable to give a speech tonight in the off chance that he’d win.

“Tomorrow night. People will vote tonight and tomorrow during the day. You don’t have to stick around tomorrow unless you win. But I recommend you come anyway to support whoever wins. I'll get you the address of the venue.” He brought him to the parking lot and unlocked his car.

“Yeah,” Gerard said as he climbed into the backseat, lying across the three seats. “I’ll come tomorrow night.” He cried softly the whole ride home.

-

He sat on the cement floor next to his piece, watching the sunset. Hopkins had shown up at his house around four in the afternoon and pulled him from the bed and made him shower. He had him eat and put on clean clothes. It felt strange to not be wearing the white shirt anymore. He was tired to say the least. Getting out of bed felt impossible once his eyes opened today. If he hadn’t shown up and let himself in, Gerard didn’t think he’d even be out of bed by now. The notebook still sat in his lap and he reread the passages that made him laugh. He could recognize them by the date and avoided the ones that made him sad.

_'Jan 16._

_Today at practice Zip bit me. He said it was an accident but I don't believe that. I accidentally broke a drum stick and he was giving me weird looks the whole time. I wonder if I taste good."_

Underneath was a drawing of him with a tooth stuck in his arm. 

People had come up to his piece, not really asking many questions. Other artists were miscellaneously spread around the venue with their pieces, standing upright and smiling at everyone, answering questions cheerfully. Gerard had made a round of the art around the venue, looking for Eugene, needing to see a familiar face that reminded him of Frank. But he couldn’t find him. He located his piece, which was an oil painting that looked like a renaissance piece. A naked woman with a knife stuck between her rib cage right above her belly. Lying unbothered, cherubs floating around her head. It was amazing and he stared at it, trying to remember Eugene's face.

The intercom over the venue had informed everyone that there was only twenty minutes left to vote for their favorite pieces. The sun was almost disappeared and he kept watching, wanting to see the stars come out. He wanted to watch the stars and imagine they were Frank, cut up and spread across the dark sky. Maybe he’d even take his advice and speak them every once in awhile. Who knew, maybe Frank would actually be able to hear him.

“Here, it’s a chocolate croissant.” Hopkins held out a aromatic piece of food wrapped in a napkin to him. “Eat this, you’ve got to be hungry by now.

“Thanks.” He took it from him. He did feel hungry now that he wondered about it. “I’m going to go get some fresh air.” He told him, a bite of food filling his mouth as he noticed the first star appear in the sky.

“Be back in a few, they’re going to count the votes soon.” Hopkins told him.

The new spring air felt nice against his face and he walked from the venue to the end of the street and sat on the curb. There wasn’t much foot traffic outside and he was thankful for that. He didn’t want people to see him outside talking to himself. He looked up at the sky, a handful of stars being sprinkled across the dark. Frank was wrong, he did go far. He covered the whole sky.

“Hey, pumpkin.” Gerard smiled. “How is it up there? It sucks down here without you. I hope it’s alright I read your book. I know you said for me to find it after you were _long_ gone. Even though it’s been such a short time, I feel like I’ve gone a lifetime without you.” He had thought he’d feel weird doing this, but something about it was calming. “I’m not sure what I'm going to do anymore, without you. I figure things will be pretty slow and lonely. Everyone is heartbroken, so I do know you were so loved, and I hope you know the same. I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” He took a deep shaky breath and continued speaking to the brightest star. “I used your line to title my painting of you, it really fit. Nothing else did.”

“Gerard!” A classmate called him from the door. For a terrifying moment, he thought it was a star calling him. “Five minutes they’re announcing the winner!” He went back inside and Gerard nodded.

“I have to go. I’ll talk to you again soon, pumpkin.” He said to the sky. “I’ll keep talking to you, don't worry. You should never be lonely up there.” He sauntered back into the room and found his way through the crowd, back to the painting.  

“Thank you to everyone who came out tonight.” Hopkins spoke on the microphone. “My art students and I have been working diligently to make this show happen, and the turnout was amazing. Over eight hundred guests, which blew my mind. I have all the great artists to thank for that.” He smiled and handed the mic over to a woman while the audience applauded. 

“Hello everyone, I’m Diana.” Her soft voice filled the room nicely. She pushed a gray tuft of hair from her face and back up. “We counted the votes, twice. So there would be no miscount.” She chuckled. “We’ll start with the three dimensional art, sculptures and such. Then we’ll move over to canvases and mediums.” She held a piece of paper in a delicate hand. “In sculptures, first place goes to Jared Martin with his piece, Buddy.” There was a round of applause again. Gerard recognized it as the piece Frank liked when he had brought him down to the studio.

He stopped listening and began to think about if he and Frank had gotten a dog. Going out to walk the dog with him would have been nice. It would have gotten them out more, but a dog would have been a lot of responsibility. Maybe Frank would have stayed sober with a dog there the night Gerard was out. He wished they had gotten a dog together at some point. Fungus was a nice addition, but she came and went as she pleased. He hardly ever saw her, she liked Frank better anyway. She hadn't been around for a couple days and he wondered if she'd ever come back now that Frank wasn't going to.

“And in first place here, we have Gerard Way.” Diana's voice rang through his head and he focused to realize it was him who needed to thank her.

“Shit,” He said to himself, brushing off his shirt of imaginary stains and waving to everyone, smiling. “Thank you.” He said to everyone staring at him.

‘Come up here, darling.” She told him. “I hope you’ve prepared a speech.”

Gerard made a face that everyone apparently found funny and laughed as a group. He thought that was a good start. He settled himself on the podium, propping Frank’s notebook on the depression in the wood where you’d usually sit a paper that had your speech written on it. Diana mounted the microphone and let him take over. He leaned in and chuckled awkwardly.

“Well, I didn’t prepare a speech because I didn’t think I’d win.” The crowd laughed again. “I used acrylic and watercolor, and I had to get the canvas specially made by some engineer majors here. My piece is called Find Me in the Afterlife, and it's of my boyfriend lying in a bath while he was detoxing off of heroin.” No one laughed this time. “He recently overdosed on heroin after relapsing back into addiction and has passed.” Gerard’s throat grew a lump, but he didn’t want to allow himself to cry. “I loved him a lot while he was alive and I still love him now. I titled it that because he wrote that line to me in a letter. To find him in the afterlife. It took me, I wanna say, three months. Uh, thanks to everyone who voted for me. I’m really surprised so many people even liked my piece. ” The crowd gave a laugh again and Gerard chuckled with them. “Goodnight everyone, thanks again.” He stepped off the podium, not knowing of anything else to say.

-

He sat on the bus, going back to the lonely, empty shell he was forced to call home. He was shocked by how much worse everything seemed without Frank, he hadn't realized he was the person in his life who had shone a positive light on every dark situation they'd ever come across. A few tears escaped him, but he didn't bother to fight them anymore. He held tight onto the notebook and looked at the stars passing by through the window. They shimmered bright, and he imagined they were Frank sending him messages. As if sending him Morse code through a signal lamp. He laughed to himself and began whispering up at the sky to Frank as a few raindrops began to splatter against the window. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end.


End file.
